Lethallin
by LNicol1990
Summary: A few incidences force Ayale Mahariel to choose where her loyalties lie. And with the Blight in the mix, she has to choose carefully... or face the consequences. On hiatus.
1. Offerings

Author's note: I know that in the game, the elves have lost most of their lore, but I didn't like the lack of Elvish. So, to compensate, I'm using as much as I can use practically. Please check the bottom of each chapter for end notes and Elvish translations. Oh, and by the way, Ayale is pronounced A-ya-ley.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Ayale laid her plate down before her. A meagre, but acceptable, amount of her dinner was still left. Well, she _hoped_ it was acceptable.

One of the problems she had discovered with being a Grey Warden was the increase in her appetite. It was a problem, but not for her image, as Alistair had jokingly remarked. It was difficult because she had to focus on how much she ate and, more to the point, how much she left for her offering to the hahra –her gods.

Alistair had called it strange, but what did shemlen know, or even care, about the ways of the Dalish? The answer: nothing. Regardless, the young templar did not seem interested in learning. And after she had snapped at him after his fifth inquiry into the matter, he had left her to her own devices.

She flicked her fringe out of her jade green eyes and tucked a flyaway strand of her blonde hair behind an ear –it was getting way too long for her liking. She had always had it cut as short as possible, mainly because Tamlen had told her once that he liked her hair like that.

Not that he was around to say that anymore...

She cleared her mind of such thoughts and focused on her next task. She pulled out nine long pieces of straw and began to twist them deftly into what almost looked like a stiff string.

"What are you doing, if I may ask?" Wynne questioned.

The mage had joined the merry band of misfits recently, when they had visited the Circle Tower for aid against the Blight –the visit had been an adventure in itself. She tended to keep to herself, apart from at meal times like now. And in such times, when everyone was together, she was more than happy to ask Ayale boundless questions, and most of which were to do with the Dalish elves.

The young she-elf had quickly discovered the older woman's persistence. If she didn't answer now, Wynne would ask next time she was preparing her offering, and the next time until she got the answer.

"Of course you may, hahren," Ayale replied respectfully. "I'm preparing a spirit candle."

Wynne, Alistair and Leliana, surprisingly, all stiffened at the answer and focused on her intently. It amazed Ayale how touchy shemlen were when it came to the spirit world. She had heard more than enough about abominations to know that they were dangerous. Heck! She'd seen enough of them in the Circle Tower to know they were dangerous. But, the shems seemed to think that merely mentioning the word 'spirit' would bring one out from thin air.

She had to chuckle slightly at the superstition.

"I take nine strands of straw, one for each of the hahra," she continued, ignoring the looks on her companions. "I twist it round so that it becomes like this…"

She held the twisted straw up to show Wynne, and stopped when she noticed that the mage was absolutely horrified. She looked over to Alistair and Leliana and saw that they too had uneasy expressions on their faces.

"What?" Ayale protested. "Even gods appreciate light by which to see the offering I give to them."

The three shemlen blinked in surprise, and then seemed rather embarrassed. Alistair even went so far as to blush at a mistake that was not obvious to Ayale.

Then she remembered. Shemlen were highly superstitious when topics concerned the spirit world. They probably thought that the spirit candle was something that would summon spirits to the camp.

"This isn't a sethenera," Ayale noted. "This isn't a place where the Veil is thin. Besides, this is a candle to the hahra, not to spirits. Hmm… maybe it should be called a hahra candle, then."

She shrugged and carried on with crafting the candle. She looped it over so the ends met. Bringing out her Dar'Misu, she sliced through the loop and cut the twine in half, one half being slightly longer than the other. She carefully measured out a length, and then bent the straw to loop again before cutting it. She used that length as a guide while she cut the straw another three times until she had ten pieces.

She turned the dagger over so it laid flat on her crossed legs. She rested the lengths of straw on the flat and picked out the one that was longer than the others. She allowed herself a moment of pride that the others were all perfectly uniform. Marethari would be very impressed with her.

"What are you doing now?" Wynne asked curiously.

Ayale startled slightly, as she hadn't realised that the mage was still watching her. She chanced a look over and saw that Leliana was also watching her with great curiosity. Alistair was continuously glancing over to her, but seemed to be trying to find something else to focus on.

"I... I cut the straw so that there are ten pieces; one for each hahra, and one extra" she explained. "The longest one is used to bind them all together. I pinch one end of the straws together, like this, and then I wind the longest around that area as tightly as I can."

She held the binding with one thumb as she wound the twine once around the bundle. She pulled it as tight as she could before making another loop around the straws. Again, she pulled it tight and wound. She followed the same procedure for another pass, until she had a small amount left. She tucked the end under the binding and pulled it until it wouldn't move anymore. She bent the end outwards and trimmed it with her Dar'Misu.

Ayale stood up and approached the fire in the centre of camp. Holding the bound end, she passed the free end through the flames.

"The candle has to be conditioned so that it burns infinitely, until the hahra accept the offering," she continued.

Then, with as little movement from the rest of her body as was possible, Ayale swung the candle around herself, forming the symbol of infinity once... twice... three times... four times...

"...five... six... seven... eight..." she counted quietly under her breath. "...and nine."

"I suppose you do that for each... hahra, whatever they are?" Alistair asked sceptically.

"Hahra is our word for the gods," Ayale replied, trying to keep her tone civil. "And yes, we do. By doing this the straw smoulders, rather than burns. The wisps of smoke are what make this become a spirit candle."

She held the candle up for Alistair to try and see. Sure enough, each of the nine ends was letting off small wisps of smoke. Each wisp drifted slowly upwards, spiralling around in the air and occasionally merging with another.

Finished in her preparations, she returned to her place and picked up her plate. She looked down at her offering and scrutinised it for a moment, making sure that it was acceptable. On an adventure like this, favour of the gods was not something she particularly wanted to lose.

She turned to the bemused templar and curious bard and mage and flashed them a smile.

She then walked away from them and approached the outskirts of camp. She went as close to the forest as she could before kneeling down and setting up her offering. She placed the candle next to her right knee and positioned the plate in front of her. She then bowed her head and closed her eyes, blocking out the worldly distractions as she did.

"Hahra, hear me, your da'len, as I walk the path you have laid before me," she began. "I offer this to you in thanks for the many gifts you have seen fit to bestow on me today. I thank Ghilan'nain for guiding my footsteps on this path as she did her sisters. I thank Andruil for keeping my arrows true and for the sacrifice of your children. I thank Mythal for protecting me as I fight the darkspawn and from the shemlen that seek me harm and ruin. I thank June for the crafting of my bow, arrows and blades, for without them I would be lost."

Ayale paused for a moment, as she thought of what else she believed she had been given that day. To not thank a god for their gift was extremely rude, and she didn't want to offend any of them. She then continued with her prayer.

"I thank Sylaise for the fire that burns in camp, keeping us warm, cooking our food and lighting our way at night. Ma serannas nir hahra. I pray that my actions are as you all wish, and that I prove myself worthy of the vallaslin of which I hold to honour you," she finished.

She then opened her eyes and stood. She turned to walk away and paused when she saw Leliana had stood up and was watching her curiously and unabashedly. She continued walking to rejoin the camp, though she suddenly felt the near overwhelming desire to run into the forest and away from Leliana's unwavering attention.

"The last time I had someone watch me so closely during my offering, it was by two den'len who had never performed the ritual before," Ayale comment embarrassedly.

"Oh!" Leliana exclaimed. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," Ayale smiled. "Though, I've never had a shem- uh, I mean, a human so interested in our rituals before."

Ayale sat back down near the fire and closed her eyes tiredly as she rested her chin on her knees. She then realised that she hadn't heard Leliana move and sit back down, and she opened her eyes and looked up.

The woman hadn't moved and was still looking at Ayale's offering.

"Once the ritual is over, you leave it alone," Ayale mentioned. "That's why I left it out there, so no one disturbs it. That way, the hahra can accept it in their own time."

"How do you know if it's been accepted?" Leliana enquired.

"When the food's gone, obviously," Ayale shrugged. "The hahra won't accept the offering themselves, but they'll send a creature to accept it for them."

"Wait! You mean... you leave food out for the wildlife?" Alistair asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea what takes the offering? What if it's a bear?"

"Bears are the favoured of Dirthamen," Ayale replied nonchalantly. "It would be something for Dirthamen to accept my offering."

"Forgive me, but do you not see how dangerous that is?" Wynne asked worriedly.

"If you mean how dangerous it is to attract wild animals close to camp, then yes I do, hahren," Ayale nodded. "Which is another reason to leave the offering so far from the main camp, the creature can take the offering without bother us, or us bothering it."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this," Alistair murmured in amazement.

"My clan has made offerings for years, and no one has ever been hurt," Ayale retorted defensively. "Also, I've made offerings every night since Ostagar and we've never been bothered."

"How about we leave this be?" Wynne suggested as Alistair opened his mouth to protest.

"Ma nuvenin, hahren" Ayale nodded in agreement. "As you wish."

"What does that mean, 'hahren'?" Wynne asked confusedly. "I'm almost sure that's directed at me."

"It, uh... it means elder," Ayale replied unsurely. "It's a word of respect to those who are older and wiser than oneself."

"Oh," Wynne blinked in mild surprise. "I... I see."

The mage flushed slightly at the underlying compliment, a small smile on her face.

After that, silence fell on the camp. No one spoke as no one had any idea of what to say. The fire crackled loudly, dancing in the fresh night air, and jumping when a light breeze fluttered past.

Ayale yawned, raising her hand to cover her mouth as she did so. With her raised hand, she rubbed her eyes tiredly. She could feel the slight scarring of her vallaslin beneath her fingertips as she brushed beneath her eyes.

Her vallaslin had always reminded her of vines that would wind themselves elegantly around a tree, and she had been proud to have been able to sit still so that Marethari could give her the complex version of the design. Tamlen had told her once that he thought the complex version was much better than the simple one.

But of course, to feel the blood writing beneath her eyes also meant that she had to feel her tainted skin. Alistair had been the one to bring it to her attention, asking her if it was part of the design of her 'tattoo' as he'd mistakenly called it. He'd unsheathed his sword and let her look at herself in the blade.

That was when she'd first seen it. Dark marks, roughly triangular in shape, ran down her face from her eyes. After relating how she was recruited into the Grey Wardens to Alistair, the young templar had theorised that it was a remainder of her would-be transformation into a ghoul.

Needless to say, she... had not taken that conversation well.

"Well, I'm going to bed," she announced, standing up and stretching. "Daln ee'yo –good night."

There were murmurs across camp as others bade her good night. She entered her tent and laid down on her sleeping mat. Her Dalish armour was such that she could easily sleep in it, and had done on several occasions. More than a few of those times had been when she and Tamlen had been tracking a hunt for a couple of days.

She frowned angrily at herself. How easily her mind would stray back to him! She hadn't given up hope that he may still yet live, but a part of her feared what he may be like if he wasn't dead. Obviously he would have become a ghoul, like she would have become if Duncan hadn't saved her.

From her mercifully short time as a ghoul, she had felt a marginal amount of pain from every part of her body. Losing that had been the greatest relief when she had become a Grey Warden. The darkspawn call, however... she had first heard it in the Korcari Wilds when she had been with Alistair, Ser Jory and Daveth, looking for darkspawn blood. The Joining hadn't really done much for her in that regard; it had simply made the call much, much less appealing to follow.

Tamlen, however, hadn't been given that luxury. That would mean, if he was still alive, he'd been subjected to the agonising pain and the overpowering call and will of the archdemon. And, he'd have suffered that torment for almost two months. She wasn't sure how well she'd have taken it, and that worried her for Tamlen's sake.

These thoughts weren't helping her sleep. She shook her head slightly to clear her mind of dark imaginings and quietly hummed a tune to herself. It was a soothing tune and she knew the words, but she didn't sing. Soon after, it wasn't long before she drifted off and found herself in the realm of dreams.

* * *

Ayale had gotten up early, as she always did. She had done easy, warm-up exercises to free off her muscles from the lethargy of sleep. And, once those tasks were done, she had approached her offering to collect the plate and clean away any leftover mess.

She was still standing over her offering when Alistair finally emerged from his tent, almost three hours after she had first woken up. She called him over when she saw that he was, if not fully awake, at least able to process simple information and give adequate responses.

"Take a look at this," she instructed, motioning down to the plate.

Alistair did what she told him to, and he stared at the plate. He looked at it for a moment... two moments... three...

"Well?" she prompted when she noticed that she wouldn't get a response anytime soon if she didn't ask.

"Well what?" Alistair asked.

"Well what?" she echoed incredulously. "The offering, of course, what else?"

By the hahra, were all shemlen like this in the morning?

"The food's gone," he observed, shrugging uninterestedly.

Well, he was right about that. The food was gone, not a scrap was left on the plate. But, that was not what Ayale wanted him to notice.

"What about the spirit candle?" she asked bluntly, hoping to get the right answer.

"Umm..." Alistair looked about half-heartedly before giving up. "What?"

"On the plate," she explained, pointing to the remains of the candle.

"I don't know," he shrugged, not getting the point of her fascination. "Maybe the bear missed it, or whatever that came to eat."

"I left the candle on the ground _next_ to plate. It has been _moved_ to sit in the centre. There is no creature that does that. _Someone_ moved it," she stated, emphasising some of her words, hoping to get the point across.

A branch snapped in the forest, causing Ayale and Alistair to instantly direct their attention to the sound. Nothing moved, not anything in the forest and not them except for their eyes that raked over the surroundings. While neither spoke, they both knew one irrefutable fact.

Someone was watching them.

"We've been watched for some time," Ayale noted in a hushed voice.

"This isn't going to go away," Alistair whispered to Ayale, not turning his attention from the forest. "We're being followed."

"I'd be worried if we weren't," she replied. "Following us means they're not giving information to Loghain."

"And if this... person was sent by Loghain?" he asked concernedly, finally turning to her.

"If they were, they've had ample time to dispatch us," she mentioned quietly, her eyes still not leaving the forest. "I don't think they're one of Loghain's lackeys."

"Do you think they took your offering?" he enquired.

"Probably," she nodded. "The hahra have a plan, it seems, lethallin. We can only wait and see."

"Can't we go after them?" Alistair counter-offered.

"Not really, no," Ayale shook her head. "Look at the ground. There are no tracks to follow. This person knows how be invisible."

She finally knelt down and picked up the plate. Once she stood again, she turned to Alistair. Her eyes were deadly serious.

"Let's not mention this to the others," she suggested. "They've got enough to worry about without knowing that there's someone in the trees."

"You really think that's a good idea?" Alistair questioned.

"What's the point of telling them?" she countered. "All that'll do is keep everyone awake at night. Paranoia, lack of sleep, and all the consequences of little rest will do us no favours."

"Perhaps you're right," Alistair agreed begrudgingly. "Still, I don't like this."

"Neither do I, lethalln," Ayale concurred. "Neither do I."

* * *

End notes: I thought that the idea of offerings was something that the Dalish would do. Offerings and/or sacrifices are important in many ancient and modern religions, so I thought I fit. Also, straw stalks are about a metre in length, right? So the candle is just under ten centimetres tall. And, for those of you who don't know, the symbol of infinity is a figure of eight on its side (∞).

Below are the translations of the Elvish words and phrases that I used in the chapter. Anything that is in _italics,_ I've made up.

Da'len –child

_Daln ee'yo_ –good night

_Hahra_ – gods

Hahren –elder

Lethallin –friend (male)

Ma serannas –thank you

_Ma serannas nir hahra _–I thank you my gods

Ma nuvenin –as you wish (it is in the game, but it's my personal translation)

Sethenera –Land of waking dreams. A place where the Veil is thin

Shemlen –quick children (elven name for humans, slang term 'shem')

Vallaslin –blood writing


	2. New Clan

Ayale sat down by the camp's main fire. She had just placed her offering out to the hahra, or whoever it was that was watching them, and was fighting the urge to watch the plate. She and Alistair had realised that they were not alone more than a week ago. They had both agreed not to mention their discovery to the others, and so, they had taken to being more vigilant in everyone's stead.

The group had picked up two more members in that week.

The first was a golem called Shale, who Ayale had freed from being an inert statue in Honnleath. She hadn't been entirely sure of Shale when... she had joined the group. She kept fearfully wondering if she would wake up find herself being crushed by the golem, simply because she was 'squishy'.

The second and therefore newest member was an elf. The man was called Zevran and hailed from Antiva. He was an Antivan Crow, an assassin sent by Loghain, and had joined the group when he had failed to kill Ayale and Alistair. The man was a shameless womaniser and Ayale was, so far, holding up against his attempts.

More than just Alistair had questioned her on the idea of bringing an assassin close to them. Wynne had been sceptical, but left the decision to Ayale. Leliana was cautious at first, but had taken to Zevran and the two of them were soon starting betting pools whenever chance came. Morrigan had merely advised her to be more careful of her meals. Sten hadn't had much to say about the matter.

And, to further their attempts on building an army, the little merry band had travelled to Redcliff, to ask Arl Eamon for aid. So much for that idea, though. It turned out that Redcliff had needed her a lot more.

A night against the undead had certainly been one that Ayale didn't want to repeat any time soon. She hadn't found killing walking corpses a pleasant experience, most carrying wounds that should have kept them on the floor. It was like being back in that hahra forsaken ruin with Tamlen.

No... that had been much worse. She had lost Tamlen and her clan because of that excursion.

The only person that had died in all of Redcliff had been the idiot innkeeper, Lloyd. Everyone had been quite proud of that fact, and no one really mourned that one shemlen. She hadn't even known him and she hadn't liked him.

When dawn had finally appeared over Redcliff castle, Bann Teagan, brother to Arl Eamon, had gone up to the castle with Arlessa Isolde. Ayale and company had been forced to take the emergency exit in, using Teagan's ring as a key.

Upon discovering that the Arl's son, Connor, was a potential mage who'd been possessed... things had gone from difficult to downright awkward. And, having been put in charge of the group had placed the unfathomable decision of the boy's fate in Ayale's suddenly very small hands. Sacrifice the child, or sacrifice the mother by using blood magic to save the boy?

By the hahra! Who could possible make that kind of decision? And all those shemlen were letting her make the big decision? They knew the boy, whereas she didn't, and they had probably understood the situation better than her had. So why had it been up her to choose the fate of two people?

Even Alistair had agreed, albeit with extreme reluctance, it would be best to sacrifice Connor. He had condemned using blood magic to enter the Fade to save the boy.

"What about the Circle?" Ayale had asked desperately, trying to find a favourable outcome. "Don't they owe us?"

That had brought common sense back into the room. It had finally been agreed that they would travel back to the Circle Tower and ask First Enchanter Irving for help. And, thank the hahra, the man had been more than happy to oblige to their call for aid.

Jowan, the maleficar and source of the original problem, had volunteered to enter the Fade, swearing that he only wanted to undo the damage he'd done, righting his mistakes. Everyone had spoken against that idea, but Ayale had given him the benefit of a doubt and had allowed him to be the one who entered the Fade.

Apparently the apostate had been telling the truth, for soon he opened his eyes and Connor came down the stairs. The lad had been confused and more than a little frightened, but calmed down quickly. The demon was gone and, more to the point, Arl Eamon was still alive, barely.

Isolde had spoken of a scholar, Brother Genitivi, who supposedly knew the location of the Urn of Andraste's Sacred Ashes. She had been firm in the belief that the ashes would be the only thing to save Eamon. Isolde had explained that the scholar lived in Denerim.

This made the capital next on Ayale's list of places that she needed to visit.

Alistair had spoken to her once they'd returned to camp. He'd thanked her for making such a level-headed decision, and for ensuring that no one had to die. He'd admitted that he wouldn't have been able to make the decision, being so close to the family as he was.

That was when Ayale realised why she had been asked to make the decision. They'd asked her because all of the shemlen knew that they wouldn't be able to make the right choice. They'd needed the decision to be made by someone who was impartial. And, what better person was there to do that then a Dalish elf?

She returned to the present and watched Alistair examine his mother's amulet. She had given it to him after she had accidently found it whilst looking at Arl Eamon's desk. She hadn't mentioned to him that she'd had to unlock a drawer to find it, though. She had the nagging feeling that his gratitude wouldn't go far enough for him to not be mad at her pilfering.

"I don't think it's going to fall apart, Alistair," she smiled.

Alistair looked up at her, grinning sheepishly. He shrugged after a moment and went back to looking at it.

"I still can't believe you found it, Ayale," Alistair noted, looking back at her. "Thank you."

Ayale shrugged passively, but her smile reached her green eyes. She then realised that she was staring at him and looked down, embarrassed. Her eyes caught her own pendant, the one Alistair had given her after the Joining, her Warden's Oath. It glittered blue in the firelight.

She frowned slightly, and straightened up. She reached round the back of her neck, searching for the clasp. Once she took it off, she let it hang from her hand as she held it up to the light. Her frown deepened in confusion.

"Alistair?" she called softly. "What's in my Warden's Oath?"

"What do you mean?" Alistair queried, looking up from his mother's amulet.

"You told me that there was blood in it," she explained. "But shemlen, uh- human blood is red, as is elven blood. Darkspawn blood is red as well, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I've had to clean enough of it off my armour," he nodded.

"So, what blood is blue?" she asked.

Alistair gave her a bewildered look. Instantly intrigued, he stood up and joined her side. He got as close to her as he knew she was comfortable with, and she moved her hand closer to him so he could see her pendant better.

"Huh, I never noticed that before," he mused.

"It kind of reminds me of the Joining liquid, or whatever it's called. That was bluish," Ayale offered. "Could... could this be the Joining liquid?"

"You remember what colour it was?" Alistair asked in surprise, backing away from her to look at her.

"Sure, why not? It was the thing that would either save or kill me," she shrugged. "Didn't you say it had lyrium in it, didn't you?"

"Yeah... but why would the Warden's Oath have the liquid used for the Joining in it?" Alistair mused.

Ayale didn't answer as she dropped her arm and looked at her pendant. To the untrained eye it would look like an odd, dark blue gem held in a tiny silver cup. She turned it over in her fingers, twisting it this way and that. Then, she twisted one hand one way, and her other hand the other way. With a gentle but firm hold on both the 'gem' and 'cup', she suddenly found no resistance to her fidgeting fingers as she unscrewed the vial lid.

"Shyie'dya!" she swore quietly, her eyes widening in surprise.

She quickly screwed the top back onto the vial, being careful not to spill any of the liquid inside. When she was sure that it was secure, she looked over to Alistair. She giggled uncertainly.

"Oops?" she offered.

Alistair snorted a laugh in response, his face creased up as he tried vainly to stop himself from bursting out laughing. His shoulders shook and a tear leaked from his eye.

Seeing that he wasn't upset or anything, as she knew he could easily change moods, Ayale allowed herself a little more freedom and let herself laugh more confidently. At the sound of her laughter, Alistair finally cracked up, which made her laugh even harder. Soon the camp was filled with the sounds of their mirth.

"Hey!" Leliana called to the pair, making them stop for a moment. "What's so funny?"

At her question, however, the two started laughing again. Alistair was doubled over and he was holding his sides, while Ayale was crying.

"What?" Leliana giggled, their joviality catching her.

"Nothing, nothing Leliana. Grey Warden stuff," Ayale eventually managed, gasping for air as she turned to Alistair. "I didn't know it could do that."

"Neither did I," he replied, still chortling.

Ayale returned the pendant to her neck, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, even as Alistair returned to a state of hysterical laughter. She couldn't quite wipe the smile off her face, but she didn't mind.

"Well, if you're finished laughing about Grey Warden _stuff_," Leliana noted, a coy smile appearing on her lips. "Maybe I could convince you to come and have a little girl time with me."

Ayale narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She looked down to the hands that Leliana were suddenly hiding behind her back. A slight breeze brought a flapping of colour from behind the bard.

Ribbons!

"No," Ayale stated in mock horror as the woman advanced on her. "No. No. No. No. NO!"

Ayale shrieked as she leapt to her feet. She could hear Leliana laughing mercilessly behind her. She darted around the camp, Leliana hot on her tail. All the time, she could hear the shem calling out to her.

"But you'll look so good! I think the blue one will look beautiful in your hair," Leliana whined playfully.

"I don't care! No ribbons! Leliana!" Ayale shrieked as she dodged the bard's hands, and again when she ducked under a second pair of hands.

Zevran smiled gleefully as he offered his assistance to Leliana. The woman laughed as she accepted his offer and the two of them bolted after the young Dalish. The three of them ran round the tents, Zevran occasionally breaking off to try and cut Ayale off from escape. But she always managed to skirt around him, much to Zevran's delight as he seemed to enjoy tearing after her.

"Alistair!" Ayale finally cried in laughter as she came near the templar. "Ay'irde! Help me!"

Alistair stood up and fell into a combat stance, but without his weapons. Ayale ran gratefully towards him, until she noticed the wicked smile on his face. She then backtracked away from him, and she saw him running to catch her.

She ducked under Leliana's outstretched hands and swerved around Zevran and bolted away from main camp. She could feel her face ache from her smile, and her sides were cramping from her foolish attempt to run and laugh at the same time. Her eyes were misted up by tears that were either from her joviality or the cool air rushing past her as she ran.

She made her pursuers chase her all around the clearing in which they had camped for the night. She could hear Leliana and Zevran laughing almost manically at the sport, and Alistair was laughing behind them, his armour clunking at his every move and weighing him down, slowing him. She heard barking as Torgan bounded up to her. She dodged the massive hulk of the Mabari and ran into camp.

Alistair suddenly appeared before her, his arms spread wide and an exhausted grin on his face. As she spun round, she saw Leliana and Zevran had also come up to her, cutting off any exit route. She stopped and whirled round as they slowly approached her.

This was it. She was done for. Her hair was going be covered in ribbons by night's end.

She spun round one last time, hopeful for a way out. She saw none, but beyond the fire, she could see Wynne watching them with a slight smile on her face. The hahren seemed to enjoy watching Ayale being tormented by ribbons and ganged up on by three of her companions, four if the dog was included.

Or maybe Wynne just enjoyed watching the young act like they were: young.

Then, a sudden, radical and absolutely insane idea came to Ayale. By the hahra, it was brilliant! She just needed enough time for it.

She turned to Leliana, who had brought the ribbons out. The bard grinned evilly at her.

"I got you now!" she laughed.

"No you haven't," Ayale shouted, chuckling, before bolting.

She ran. Taking one step... two steps... three... and then she leapt over the fire. She held her breath and closed her eyes while she was airborne. She tried not to flinch as the flames licked at her shins and calves. She hazarded a glance at her landing destination, and promptly landed on the very edge of the fire.

The log she had landed on flicked up and whacked her in the back of the leg as she carried on running. Ayale couldn't help but yelp as the log seared her with the fire that was burning it. She took two steps before stopping and looking down.

Her boot was on fire! No wonder her leg was stinging. She quickly battered at the flames, hopping on her uninjured leg.

"Ow! Hot! Hot! Hot!" she yelped as she finally pulled her boot off and threw it to the ground.

She stamped at the flames, ignoring the feeling of the fire burning the sole of her foot. Soon, the fire was out, and Ayale looked up.

Leliana had covered her mouth with her hands, utter shock was present in her face. Alistair looked worried, and was looking at the burns that were now starting to sting. Zevran was trying to look concerned but seemed more interested in laughing, his lips twitching as he fought to keep his smile in check.

Ayale took Zevran's idea and started laughing. She picked up her boot, which wasn't badly damaged, and limped towards the trio. She held out a hand towards Leliana, who took it before allowing herself the freedom to laugh in relief. Ayale could see Alistair hang his head as if exhausted, before raising it to look at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm alive," Ayale smiled in response. "That... that was fun."

She winced when she stretched her leg. She let Leliana wrap an arm around her and she didn't complain when they guided her to Wynne. She flashed a smile at the mage as she crossed her arms.

"Sit down and let me look at it," Wynne instructed.

Ayale didn't speak as Wynne assessed the burns and brought out a salve to apply. She didn't wince or hiss as the cold balm touched the blistering skin. She was utterly still while her leg was bandaged, not saying a word. She didn't even complain that Wynne wasn't using magic to heal her.

"You'll have to rest on that," Wynne explained. "And if you do that again, don't come crying back to me. I am not going to heal it a second time."

"Ma mondrie, hahren," Ayale nodded. "Ma serannas."

"Doesn't that hurt?" Alistair asked once Wynne was done.

"If I cried over something as little as this, I would never have been given my vallaslin," Ayale laughed quietly.

Ayale stood up, gingerly testing her leg as she put her weight on it. She walked away with the trio, smiling easily. She hung an arm around Leliana's shoulders, and the bard wrapped an arm across her back, her hand resting lightly on Ayale's waist.

"You really surprised me when you did that," Leliana remarked.

"It..." Ayale chuckled. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I must say, Aya," Zevran barked a laugh. "You looked like this one mark I had once... thankfully things ended better for you than him."

"You're going to have to tell me that one later, in greater detail," Ayale smirked, raising an eyebrow for a moment. "But please, don't call me Aya again."

"Oh? And why not?" Zevran quizzed. "Do you find it unpleasant?"

"No..." Ayale shook her head slowly. "It's... It's not that..."

She dropped her boot and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She was determined not to cry. Not in front of everyone. Not over this... not over this! She didn't lower her hand as more tears threatened to fall. Her breath started to hitch in her chest and she could feel herself beginning to tremble. Leliana's grip on her waist tightened comfortingly, though she knew the bard had no idea what was upsetting her.

"There... There's only one person in the whole world who can call me Aya," she finally managed, lowering her hand to look at her worried companions. "Tamlen."

Alistair lowered his gaze to the ground when Ayale named her clan mate. He shifted uneasily, and motioned to Zevran to leave the girls alone. There was one definite plus about the bastard prince being raised in the Chantry. He was sensitive enough to know when girls needed time alone, to cry, to comfort, whatever.

Leliana lead Ayale to a side and they sat down, rather difficulty as neither let go of their grip of each other. When they were both comfortable on Leliana's mat, Ayale leaned into the bard's shoulder and she cried. She could feel Leliana holding her gently, rubbing her back comfortingly.

She tried to be as quiet as possible, but her heart wanted her to scream to the heavens. She wanted to scream to the hahra, to demand that they answer her, to give her the answer that had haunted her for two months.

"Fen'Harel!" she cried in a cracked, teary voice. "Open heaven's gates! Let the hahra out! Let them answer my prayers! Let me know! Let me know if Tamlen lives! Let me know!"

She didn't call out anymore, letting herself cry on Leliana's shoulder. They stayed like that until Ayale cried herself into an exhausted and uneasy slumber.

* * *

End note: I did not intend it to end on a sad note, but I think it puts me in a good place for the next chapter.

Elven translations (My elven words are in _italics_):

_Ay'irde_ –help me

_Hahra_ –gods

Hahren –elder

_Ma_ _mondrie_ –I understand

Ma serannas –thank you

_Shyie'dya_ –elven curse (You can decide how colourful it is)

Shemlen –human

Vallaslin –blood writing


	3. Culture Shock

_The food was meagre, hardly enough to live off. But she gulped it down without hesitation, not caring that it was cold. It was food, and more to the point, it was meant to be food. So often had she seen bodies that had been cut down, the still warm carcass now useless, and she had felt the desire to gorge on the raw meat._

_She had been tempted, so many times she had been tempted, but at the sight of... the others feeding... she had regained her senses at the last minute and shied away. The others, she could see them for what they really were and they terrified her, and not just because of their appearance._

_They sang, as did so many more that she couldn't see. They sang to her, and it echoed in her head, she couldn't shake the call from her mind. So terrifying... so haunting... so compulsive..._

_There were times when she didn't know if her mind was her own. Was she herself, or was she of them? She wasn't sure anymore._

_A sound! She recognised that sound. Long, so long ago she had made that very sound. So free and innocent, so happy, but where was it coming from? Of course, it came from them. She wasn't sure why she followed them, but she did. Maybe it was the food that one left out..._

_That one... she knew that one..._

_No! Impossible! It couldn't be! She couldn't know anyone. She wasn't what she was anymore._

_For reasons she wasn't sure she could remember, she placed the little bundle of straw –a spirit candle, she recalled idly– on the empty plate. The food was barely enough to sustain her, but she made it so. Either that or she would have to eat... no, the food would last her._

_She ran back into the forest. She wasn't sure why she didn't just walk into the camp, let them know that she was there, as two of them suspected. She wasn't sure why she didn't ask them for more food, or simply for help. But would they help someone... something like her? She wasn't sure._

_She turned to look at the still pond that was nearby. So thirsty, she crept over to it. She cupped her hands and filled them with the water and drank. It was rank and filthy, but it was all she had, all she could have. Ripples on the water's surface distorted her reflection. She waited for the water to still._

_She didn't know why she was so interested in her reflection. It was nothing more than a disturbing reminder of what she had become, with the remains of what she once was looking up at her._

_She looked at her reflection and startled. That wasn't her. That meant these weren't her thoughts, they couldn't be! But she recognised the vallaslin and the pieces fell into place._

Ayale yelped as she bolted upright. She was covered in a cold sweat and she brought her hands sharply to her face. She could feel her entire body shaking and she fought to calm her ragged breathing. Thankfully for her, she managed to keep her tears behind her eyelids. Slowly, the utter terror that had woken her began to abate, and she calmed down.

When she lowered her hands, she realised how drained she felt. It was like she had gone up against the undead for round three. She was beginning to wish she had.

She looked around and felt instantly disorientated. Looking out of the tent, she realised that she was staring at the fire from the wrong angle and, therefore, wasn't on her own sleeping mat. She turned to look down to her side, and was shocked to realise that Leliana was sleeping next to her.

She quickly ran her mind over the previous night, trying to remember what the heck had happened that she would fall asleep on Leliana's mat. Not that she had anything against the shemlen bard, but there were things that you just don't want to wake up to. It could have been worse though, she had to remind herself. She could have woken up next to Alistair or, hahra forbid, Zevran.

Zevran... oh yes... that was what had happened.

Ayale hung her head and hid her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment. She had done so well, and all it had taken to undo her was that nickname... the one that she wouldn't let anyone other than Tamlen use.

"Are you alright?" came a quiet voice from beside her.

Ayale looked over to see Leliana looking at her, sleepy but concerned. The bard pawed at her nose and yawned before determinedly rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes. She then sat up to look at Ayale on even levels.

"I'm... a little embarrassed," Ayale admitted. "I... I don't usually cry like that."

"That's okay," Leliana smiled. "We can keep that between you and me."

"Ma serannas lethallan," Ayale smiled.

"So... only one person can call you 'Aya' huh?" Leliana noted cautiously, obviously not wanting to upset Ayale. "Who is he?"

"Tamlen? He... he was a member of my clan. We've known each other since we were five, maybe even earlier," Ayale explained. "He used to call me Aya. And, when I was twelve, I decided that I only wanted him to call me that. I would get upset whenever anyone else used that name for me. The hahren quickly figured it out, I think, and they told the da'len to stop calling me Aya. Tamlen heard about my... tantrums, somehow, and after that he... stopped calling me Aya as well."

Ayale looked over to Leliana, who was engrossed in the story. Ayale chuckled slightly.

"How does a twelve-year-old explain to a boy that she only wants _him_ to call her Aya? I certainly didn't know how, so I didn't bother trying. But, I kept waiting, hoping, that he'd make a mistake, call me Aya once. I could tell him then that I liked him calling me that," Ayale smiled briefly at the plan she'd formulated all those years ago. "But, he never did. He went on to call me lethallan, instead."

"What does that mean anyway?" Leliana enquired.

"Lethallan? It means friend," she answered, smiling easily, glad to be moving away from the topic of her friend.

Ayale suddenly realised that she hadn't seen the inside of Leliana's tent before, and allowed her insatiable curiosity to take over. She looked around, interested in what the bard kept for keepsakes. There was the Andraste's Grace that Ayale had given to her after their visit to Redcliff. The bard's armour and weapons were nearby, ready for being adorned. A lyre and flute was resting in one corner, both in good condition by Ayale's judgement.

And the last thing she noticed was a little box. She didn't know what it was, but she was certain that it wasn't a jewellery box. For one thing, it wasn't the right shape.

"What's in that box, Leliana?" she asked curiously.

"Oh that? That's just my makeup box," the bard giggled.

"Makeup? What's that?" Ayale frowned in interest.

"You- you don't know what makeup is?" Leliana stuttered.

"Should I?" Ayale shrugged inquisitively, her eye flittering between the bard and the box.

"How-" Leliana sputtered in shock, before looking craftily at the elf. "How about I show you?"

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Ayale asked warily.

"Not at all," Leliana smiled not-so-innocently. "Now, you take the mat outside, and I'll get the box. It's best we do this in the light, yes?"

Ayale eyed the Orlesian nervously before submitting and pulling the mat out. She sat down on and waited for Leliana to appear, which she did moments later. The bard had also brought out a mirror.

"What's that for?" Ayale enquired, motioning to the mirror.

"The mirror? Well, makeup goes on your face, so you'll need a mirror to see what it looks like," Leliana explained cheerfully as she sat down facing Ayale.

"Does... makeup come off?" the elf questioned worriedly.

"Of course it does," Leliana laughed. "Or else I wouldn't need a box of it, would I?"

Ayale relaxed at the assertion. The last thing she wanted was to be covered in some shemlen... stuff and be unable to get it off. But, Leliana seemed to be enjoying herself with the prospect of applying makeup onto Ayale. She couldn't help but think that this was going to be something akin to the ribbons.

"Now," Leliana announced in a serious, businesslike tone. "First, I think we'll go for eye shadow. Those dark marks... they're going to make this a little difficult. But, I think I have the perfect colour..."

She trailed off as she delved into the box. She fished about until she found what she had been looking for. She finally brought out a small tin and flourished it about proudly.

"This! This will be perfect," she muttered happily before smiling at Ayale. "A very light green... those dark marks will darken the colour, I think, so we'll have to give you the lightest of colours. Green would suit you beautifully, I think."

Leliana took the lid off and lightly dabbed one of her fingers in the strange light green dust that was inside. She then shuffled closer to Ayale and smiled eagerly.

"Close your eyes, so I can put this on your eyelids," she instructed seriously.

"I am going to regret this," Ayale mumbled as she obeyed.

Her right eye twitched slightly when she suddenly felt Leliana's light touch. The bard's featherlike strokes across her eye were rather disconcerting for her, but she had endured much worse when Keeper Marethari had deemed her worthy to receive her vallaslin. Of course, the difference between that experience and the one she was currently in was that Ayale knew what was happening when she received her vallaslin.

She then felt Leliana's gentle fingers on her left eye, and she fought down the twitch that threatened to ruin whatever it was that Leliana was doing. Soon, it was over and she heard the woman sigh in pride.

"That looks nice, I think," she mentioned happily. "Your marks have definitely made the eye shadow darker than it should be, but you don't look like you haven't slept for twenty days anymore."

Ayale opened her eyes and glanced at Leliana. She was more than a little suspicious of the bard's smile, and the fact that the woman was once again rummaging through the box. She looked over to the mirror and reached out for it. She was suddenly curious, if not slightly worried, about what this 'eye shadow' had done.

"Ah!" Leliana playfully tapped Ayale's hand away from the mirror. "You shouldn't look until I'm finished. After all, who really wants to see half-finished work? Now, let's see if I can't get rid of those horrid dark marks down your face, because I _know_ they're not part of your... what do you call your tattoos?"

"They're not tattoos," Ayale replied. "They're my vallaslin, or blood writing in your language. We Dalish wear them with pride for we honour the hahra with them."

"Oh right, sorry," Leliana apologised.

"Don't be," Ayale smiled kindly. "Everyone makes that mistake. So... makeup can get rid of my taint marks?"

"Get rid of them... no, not really," the bard admitted sadly. "But, makeup can hide them. I think I have _just_ the right foundation for that too."

After putting away the eye shadow, Leliana pulled out another tin. This one held a strange mixture between a cloth and a sponge. She lifted it up to show another powder, but this one was light beige in colour. Leliana rubbed the... sponge into the powder and then brandished it before Ayale, almost like a weapon.

"Stay still," Leliana ordered lightly, her playful smile never once leaving her lips.

Ayale fought the urge to shy away when the... thing touched her cheek. She knew that this was harmless fun for Leliana, but she was finding it very unappealing. The woman was obviously oblivious to the Dalish's way when concerning to touching places such as the face, shoulders, back or neck. Such places were touched only by people who were trusted completely by the person in question, and never without expressed permission.

Ayale wasn't as bad as Morrigan, however. She understood that shemlen were not so reserved to close physical contact as the Dalish were. That didn't mean she had to like it though. But she knew that she was _never_ going to mention this fact to Leliana. The bard would feel absolutely horrible about making her uncomfortable, and she would then feel guilty for even mentioning it.

"There, much better," Leliana announced, the smile widening further than Ayale had thought possible. "However, that does leave your cheeks looking rather bland. I think a smidge of blush would fix that!"

A smidge of blush? Oh dear... Hahra help her, the nightmare wasn't over yet.

Ayale had found that she was no longer tensing up when Leliana's hand approached her face, to which she was glad. The application of the blush, which seemed to be red –or perhaps a dark pink, she wasn't entirely sure– took practically no time at all.

Unfortunately for Leliana's efforts, she wasn't comfortable with the feeling of the powder on her face. To Ayale, it just didn't feel natural.

"This feel silly," Ayale finally mentioned.

"I'm done," Leliana declared. "I was considering some lipstick, but I don't think you really need it. Your lips are such a pretty colour, after all."

With that, the bard picked up the mirror, its backing facing up. She offered it to Ayale, and the elf took it apprehensively. After a couple of seconds, the mirror was turned over.

Ayale stared in shock at her reflection. She couldn't believe it was herself who was looking up at her. She allowed herself a moment of panic, thinking this was a smaller, more portable version of the mirror that had entranced Tamlen, showing the viewer images of things in faraway places. But, she knew that was a foolish terror, and erased the thought from her mind.

"Is that... what have you done to me?" she asked, feeling completely awestruck.

"Don't you like it?" Leliana asked worriedly, not picking up the right message behind Ayale's words.

The elf cautiously raised a hand to her face. She almost felt afraid to touch her skin, afraid that the new-found perfection would shatter, leaving behind the image of the tainted ruin that she had become.

Or, was that devastation only in her dreams?

A tear drop splashed onto the mirror and shook Ayale from her reverie. She fought back the cuss that was perched on her lips and berated herself for crying for a second time.

"Look at me, I'm going to ruin all your hard work," Ayale whined quietly.

"So... you really like it?" Leliana asked hopefully.

"Like it? I love it," Ayale assured. "You've made me look normal again."

"I just hid those taint marks... oh," Leliana finished quietly as she realised what Ayale had meant.

Ayale merely smiled gratefully at the bard. She lowered her eyes to the box and saw all the different tins. It seemed amazing to her, that such little things could make such a... a magical transformation for her. She was suddenly curious as to what the other tins held, and what they could do, how they would change her appearance. Then she noticed something in Leliana's box, something that wasn't in a tin.

"What's this?" Ayale queried as she fished the oddity out of the box.

"That's eyeliner," Leliana explained. "You put it on to outline your eye. I would have used it, but it wouldn't have worked well because of the taint marks."

The eyeliner looked like some kind of writing utensil to Ayale. But, Leliana knew more about makeup than her, so she didn't comment. By how small the eyeliner was, Ayale had to guess that the Orlesian used eyeliner quite often.

A sudden thought hit the elf and made her chuckle.

"I was just thinking about if the Dalish had a box of makeup," she explained at Leliana's intrigued expression. "I imagine this eyeliner would disappear in a matter of minutes, and the next thing anyone would know... all the da'len would be running around with fake vallaslin on their faces."

Leliana's eyes went wide for a moment as she realised what Ayale was talking about. She then hid her mouth behind her hand as she smothered a laugh. Tears leaked down the bard's face and her shoulders shook.

"All the designs would be wrong," Ayale continued, a wide smile on her face. "And they might even just make up designs. Keeper Marethari would be beside herself."

"How many designs are there?" Leliana asked, curiosity instantly peaked.

"Eight, one for each of the hahra," Ayale replied. "There's a simple and complex version of each design."

"But... I thought there were nine elven gods," Leliana noted.

"There are," the elf admitted. "But we don't honour Fen'Harel. We'll respect him in our offerings, but there's no vallaslin for him."

"You... mentioned him last night," the bard mentioned quietly.

"Yeah, I did. Fen'Harel is the trickster, the Dread Wolf. He tricked the hahra to return to heaven, and then closed the gates behind them, trapping them there. This was all before the fall of Arlathan, so the hahra couldn't help us when our civilisation crumbled," Ayale shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "So, we don't honour him with vallaslin."

"Who do you honour?" Leliana asked interestedly.

"Me? Keeper Marethari gave me the vallaslin to honour Ghilan'nain," Ayale answered. "She is the goddess of the halla, and she's considered somewhat of a guide, in... whatever way you want to think of, really. I've always thought of her as a spiritual guide, keeping me on the path the hahra set out before me."

"And... what did –uh! I mean... what..." Leliana bit her lip uncertainly. "What vallaslin did your Keeper Marethari give to Tamlen?"

Ayale smiled appreciatively at Leliana's attempt to be ambiguous about Tamlen. She chewed her own lip as she thought. She tried to ignore the plummeting feeling in her stomach as she remembered her friend's face, how his vallaslin spread over his forehead, and stretched out from his mouth.

"He... honoured Dirthamen, the Keeper of Secrets," she replied. "He got his vallaslin about a month before me. I had been hoping that he would be given the vallaslin to honour Andruil. I always liked simple version of that design."

"What does that look like?" Leliana asked curiously.

Ayale flashed the bard an indulgent smile, and looked down at her hands. She noticed that she still had Leliana's eyeliner in her possession. She smiled thoughtfully as she raised her hand, showing the eyeliner.

"How abut I show you?" she offered.

Leliana smiled excitedly before dropping into a serious expression. She wriggled slightly before straighten up and remaining as still as possible. She turned the mirror over, so she couldn't see her reflection.

When the woman was settled, Ayale reached out and began to draw.

* * *

End note: Okay, we never find out which of the different vallaslin honours which god, so below is my personal assignment. You may want to look at the dragon age wiki so you know which vallaslin I'm talking about

Design 1 –Andruil. Design 2 –Sylaise. Design 3 –June. Design 4 –Falon'Din. Design 5 – Mythal. Design 6 –Dirthamen. Design 7 –Ghilan'nain. Design 8 – Elgar'nan

Elven translations (my words are in _italics_):

Da'len –child (children)

_Hahra_ –gods

Lethallan –friend (female)

Ma serannas –thank you

Shemlen –human

Vallaslin –blood writing


	4. Quiet Night

Author's note: Hey! This chapter is under three thousand words. I feel so proud. I don't tend to like chapters being over three thousand words, but I'm a sucker for editing things out. Anyway, my random shout is over. Enjoy!

* * *

Ayale was still fuming when she, Leliana, Alistair, and Zevran walked into camp. She had been muttering furiously in Elvish ever since they left Denerim, and she had no intention of desisting in the foreseeable future.

"Tea, anyone?" Leliana offered, raising the kettle that they had just bought.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Wynne smiled graciously.

"I could do with a cup," Alistair agreed, massaging the tight muscles in his neck.

"Ma serannas, Leliana," Ayale replied, before sighing in exasperation. "If I never see Denerim again in my _life_, it'll be too soon!"

"Did things not go well?" Wynne asked cautiously, obviously no wanting to further irritate the elf.

"Not really, no," Ayale shrugged. "We didn't find Brother Genitivi, but we did get information as to his whereabouts. We took some jobs from the Chanter's Board, and some around the city. We even got to do a little shopping."

"Then what is the problem?" Sten enquired.

"Oh… I just had my first experience of shemlen city life, up close and personal," the Dalish elf replied, disgruntled.

"Oh dear," Wynne murmured in sympathy. "Did you have… trouble?"

Ayale took the cup the Leliana had just offered her, muttering thanks as she did. She inhaled the steam from the cup deeply and exhaled calmly. She blew the liquid gently and then took a sip. She swallowed the hot tea, feeling it run down her throat, easing all the tension in her body. She opened her eyes, not realising that she had closed them, and looked over to Wynne.

"In a sense, hahren," Ayale nodded. "Most of the shem- uh, humans were polite enough. Alistair's sister however… well, let's say she should be glad to be his sister. Or, she'd be missing teeth."

"Ayale, I'm really sorry about Goldanna," Alistair apologised, for the umpteenth time.

"Nal de'gar, Alistair," Ayale smiled good-naturedly, waving her hand at him. "That wasn't your fault. Thanks for standing up for me, by the way."

Alistair smiled and shrugged before muttering something incoherently into his cup of tea. He winced at the scalding liquid, yelping slightly and almost spilling it on himself.

"And then, there were those two Chantry sisters," Ayale shuddered at the memory.

"Ayale, I know you follow your own gods," Wynne chided. "But please, have some courtesy for a religion other than your own."

"Hahren Wynne, you misunderstand," Ayale protested immediately. "I have nothing but the deepest respect for shemlen following the path laid out for them by your Maker, or anyone for that matter. But that's not what I was referring to. Those two sisters… they wouldn't shut up, even Leliana couldn't stand them at the end!"

"They… certainly knew how to get your attention," Leliana chuckled as she nodded in agreement.

"And of course we couldn't leave once they got started, since they would take it as an elf being disrespectful to the Chantry, and who knows what would have happened then…" Ayale shuddered again.

She took another mouthful of tea and felt the last of the tension that had been so tightly wound up inside her ease into nothing.

She shrugged out of her dual back scabbards, laying her Dar'Misu and Dar'Misaan down on the mat beside her, next to her Dalish longbow and quiver. She unsheathed both blades and picked up the flint that she kept to sharpen her weapons. She checked them both before starting, letting them rhythm finish the calming of her mind that the tea had started.

The rest of the night went by without much disturbance. It was Ayale's turn to cook, and she had gone for a Dalish recipe that she had made dozens of times. The hares that she had picked out of their snares were boiled into a stew. She added elfroot and deep mushroom for additional flavouring, along with an ingredient that she flat out refused to name.

Halfway through the meal, the sound of wolves howling brought everyone to pause. Everyone looked in the direction uneasily, glancing over to where they had laid their weapons, everyone except Ayale.

"The shaal are out early tonight," she commented in a curious tone. "They're missing a member, I think. They're trying to find him… or her."

"How can you tell?" Leliana asked wonderingly.

"If you listen to their calls, there doesn't sound to be as many. That means the pack isn't trying to mask its number," the elf explained. "Also, when laying claim to territory, the pack doesn't call out at once. They take turns. Tonight, they're all calling out together and then they quiet down to listen for a return call."

"I don't suppose you know just how far away they are, by chance?" Zevran asked cautiously.

"A good mile or two," Ayale replied instantly. "They won't bother us, if that's what you're worried about."

Apparently satisfied with Ayale's assurances, everyone returned to eating. The calls of the wolves echoed over their light conversations, making someone looked up occasionally. Torgan, the Mabari war hound, would give a half-hearted howl to the baying wolves every so often, and even had someone return his call.

And, as was becoming a tradition within the group, when dinner was finished, Ayale made her spirit candle while Leliana watched with reverence. Ayale would then leave the group to set up her offering to the hahra, offering a prayer in thanks for the gifts she had been given that day.

"Ma serranas nir hahra," she recited as she ended her prayer. "I pray that my actions are as you all wish, and that I prove myself worthy of the vallaslin of which I hold to honour you."

She stood up and turned around. She began to walk back to camp when she felt eyes on her back. She slowed to a halt and waited for the feeling to either intensify or dim. She waited for a minute, and nothing happened.

_Snap!_

Ayale whipped her body round, focusing instantly on the source of the sound. She saw nothing, but could hear rustling within the underbrush as something made a speedy and relatively quiet retreat. The sound was then covered up as a light breeze agitated the trees.

"Ayale? Is everything okay?" Wynne called.

"Of course, hahren," Ayale replied as turned back, an easy smile on her face. "I spooked a shaal, that's all."

"Shaal?" Leliana echoed. "Was it the lost wolf?"

"I don't think so," Ayale answered. "Shaal is a general term for animal, or beast. Torgan is a shaal."

The Mabari whined hurtfully in response.

"Of course, you're a very smart, sophisticated shaal," Ayale cooed. "Aren't you, boy?"

Torgan barked happily as Ayale knelt down slightly to fondle his ears. He then leapt up, placing his forepaws on the elf's shoulders. With his massive hulk, he unbalanced her and she fell to the ground with a cry of surprise. With his mistress at his mercy, he gave her slobbery kisses all over her face.

"Torgan! Torgan!" Ayale cried, half laughing, half crying. "You're too heavy. Ay'irde! Alistair! Ay'irde!"

"Whoa, Torgan," Alistair stated, pulling the huge dog off the helpless elf by his collar. "I think you're too heavy to stand on Ayale."

As is to prove the point, Ayale coughed and sputtered when Torgan was finally hauled off her chest, gasping at the air. She sat up, massaging her sore shoulders with one hand, while fending of Torgan's renewed attempts to lick her vallaslin off her face.

"Let me up, Torgan," she finally ordered. "Go see Sten, maybe he has something for you."

The Mabari instantly bolted for the qunari, and Ayale felt a little sorry for putting Sten in the spotlight. But, the man had a tenderness for things, which he preferred to keep understated. Sure enough, when Torgan ran up to him, Sten threw a stick for the dog.

"Are you okay?" Alistair asked as he offered his hand to Ayale.

"I'm alive," she replied, taking his hand.

It always amazed her how gentle the bastard prince could be, after training to be a templar. She would have thought him to be rough in everything he handled, but he held her hand as if she was made of crystal, or perhaps fine silk. He didn't pull her up like she had half-expected him to, either. He gave her an anchor, something to pull against so she could get herself up.

"Ma serannas, lethallin," she thanked him breathlessly once she was on her feet.

"Uh, you're welcome," Alistair replied awkwardly. "You have to tell me what lethallin means."

"One day, maybe," Ayale promised, catching Leliana's eye. "If you can't work it out yourself before then."

"So... just an animal?" Alistair asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yeah, just a shaal," Ayale confirmed sternly, before smiling. "I guess I must have done something good today, for the hahra to send a creature to accept my offering so quickly."

Alistair looked at her, not fooled by her assertions. But he didn't speak against her, that would come later when they took night watch, she was certain. For the moment, however, he let the matter drop.

"I guess it's time we turn in," Leliana announced. "I think it's mine and Alistair's turn to take watch."

"That's okay Leliana," Ayale assured. "One of you can get some sleep. I don't think sleep will go well for me tonight."

"Same here," Alistair agreed firmly.

"O-kay," Leliana relented unsurely. "Zevran and I will take over in a few hours then."

The group slowly bunked down for the night. It was more than an hour before the two Grey Wardens found themselves alone in the camp. They didn't speak for a long time, listening to the crackling of the main camp fire, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, and the calls of the wolves as they continued to search for the missing member.

Eventually, the howling finally ended and the forest fell into an almost eerie silence.

"We can't keep this to ourselves, Ayale," Alistair mentioned. "We have to tell them."

"You don't like keeping secrets, do you?" Ayale observed.

"Not something like this," he retorted. "Them not knowing puts us all at risk."

Ayale was silent for a moment, chewing her lip as she thought. Alistair was right. She knew he was right. Keeping the rest of the group unapprised of the situation was just asking for disaster.

"We'll tell them in the morning, then," Ayale conceded.

"In the morning," Alistair echoed, a relieved smile on his lips. "So... is there a reason you wanted to take first watch, or was it just so we could talk?"

"I'm not finding my dreams very agreeable at present," Ayale confided. "Dreams of the archdemon... I can't help but feel that I'm pushing my luck every time I close my eyes."

"Oh?" Alistair quirked his eyebrow up. "How so?"

"It feels to me like I'm poking a sleeping bear," she explained. "It won't notice anything for the most part. But, sooner or later, the bear's going to wake up. And when he does, he's going to look at me and take my hand off."

"You think the archdemon might see you?" he enquired, trying to understand Ayale's explanation.

At his words, the elf shivered fearfully. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't breathe for a moment. She felt tears prick at her eyes and she closed them, steeling herself as words echoed through her mind, making her stomach plummet.

"_It saw me! Help... I can't look away!"_

"The... last person the archdemon saw..." Ayale murmured, struggling to keep her voice level and calm. "I haven't seen him since."

She opened her eyes and looked at Alistair. The man had an expression of shock as he realised who she was referring to. He then looked sympathetically and apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry," he stated. "I... I should have chosen my words better."

"Nal de'gar Alistair," Ayale whispered, shaking her head as she stared out into a space only she could see. "That– That's exactly what I'm afraid of. After all, how many times can you look into the abyss before something looks back?"

It was Alistair's turn to chew his lip, a look of thought on his face. He had obviously been wondering the same thing himself, and so, he had no idea how to comfort her. She hadn't been expecting him to have an answer, however.

An arm gently wrapped itself across her back, and a hand held her left shoulder lightly. She could feel a thumb rubbing her skin. The action itself was pointless, but the gesture was more comfort for Ayale than any words Alistair could have ever have said.

She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Sometimes, it was good for shemlen to be so tall. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them spoke. Then, the moment passed. Alistair released her shoulder and Ayale wiped away the tears that she hadn't noticed fall.

"Ayale?" Alistair called softly as she moved away to check the perimeter. "When something looks back from the abyss, it'll be looking at both of us. Maybe it'll see we outnumber it and we'll frighten it away."

"We can only hope, lethallin," she smiled.

Leliana and Zevran showed up a couple of hours later. The two Wardens returned to their tents, both bidding each other a good night and the two rogues a quiet watch.

Ayale laid on her sleeping mat, staring up at roof of her tent. She didn't feel tired at all, though she knew she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she had had that nightmare three days ago. She had been tempted to talk to Alistair about it, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him to know.

She ran through the dream in her mind, trying to discern what it could mean. Was it nothing more than a nightmare that had taken the form that most frightened her? Of course, that was the way of nightmares. Nightmares didn't have one playing games with the hahra in the forests of old. They weren't nightmares if they did that.

Slowly, her eyelids began to droop, getting heavier and heavier each time she blinked. She struggled half-heartedly to shrug off the trappings of sleep. Eventually, she succumbed and began to dream.

_The sky, a swirling green, flashed with lightening. A black shadow soared overhead for a moment, circling above her head._

_The food was warm, she could smell it. It smelt so good! She wanted to take it, so hungry... The smell, it reminded her of something she couldn't quite remember. Home, maybe? Had she ever had a home?_

_The dark shadow was getting larger. She could see it better now. It was some kind of flying creature, she could see the wings. Those wings were nothing more than a thin membrane. How could anything fly with such wings? They looked so fragile._

_She watched that one, the one that she knew but could not know. She watched that one pause. Had that one heard her? Did that one know she was there? She was afraid, but... what was she afraid of?_

_The song was calling to her. It wanted her to... do something. It wanted her to hurt that one, to break that one... to make that one bleed. But, she knew that one. She... felt for that one? Was that possible? She wasn't what had once been. Could she feel for that one?_

_She was afraid, and so she had fled._

_She saw what it was now. That dark shadow was a dragon. It was so terrible, so frightening. But that was nothing new. She had seen the dragon before._

_She stopped running. The song called to her. It told her to stop. It told her to go back. She didn't want to hurt that one, but she couldn't deny the call. So, she watched the others make their way towards them, and that one. _

_She knew what the others wanted. They wanted to kill. They wanted to feed. She knew she had no choice, and so, she followed them. But, she would only follow them. She wouldn't hurt that one or them with that one._

_The dragon's roar echoed in her ears, as it always did. She didn't cover her ears, it wouldn't have helped anyway. Instead, she just stood there, and stared._

_She was so close to them, and that one. The others had hidden themselves. They were going to ambush them._

_The dragon turned its head slightly. It saw her!_

_She thought hard, it was so difficult to do that nowadays. Had it always been so? That one... she knew that one. How did she know that one?_

_The dragon roared in anger. It glared at her. It wanted her dead, and it wanted her dead now._

_She remembered. She knew how she knew that one._

_Lethallan..._

Ayale woke up and screamed.

* * *

End note: Hehe. Um... did I not mention that I write killer cliff-hangers? Sorry.

Elven translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

_Ay'irde_ –help me

_Hahra_ –gods

Hahren –elder

Lethallin/Lethallan –friend (male/female)

Ma serannas –thank you

_Ma serannas nir hahra _–I thank you my gods

_Nal de'gar_ –worry no more (don't worry)

Shaal –animal/beast (my character actaully said that when she entered a fight with wolves, and I thought it fit)

Shemlen –human


	5. The Reappearance

Author's note: I cut this chapter in half when I realised that it was going to be way, _way_ too long. There's quite a bit of Elvish in this chapter, so please remember to check the translations at the bottom.

* * *

Ayale grabbed her blades and darted out of her tent. Her foot caught on the mid-support and she stumbled into the main camp area, somehow remaining on her feet. She straightened up and spun round, looking for _them_.

They were coming. She knew they were coming, or maybe... maybe they had already come.

"Ayale?" Leliana's worried voice penetrated the elf's ears.

She turned to see Leliana and Zevran watching her with concerned expressions. Both seemed oblivious to her fears.

Had it only been a dream? A nightmare? Were they safe?

And then Alistair came out of his tent, pale faced. He was in his armour and looked like he was ready for battle. He caught her eye and she saw that he was as scared as she was... no, not quite, but close enough.

"Did you feel it?" he asked, panic barely suppressed in his tone.

"It saw us. It... It saw me!" Ayale cried hysterically.

Her eyes widened as she realised what she'd just said. She began to shake uncontrollably and tears ran down her face. She breathed in sharp, quick breaths that made her chest ache and her vision swim. But all that was going through her mind was the fact that the archdemon had seen her.

Just like it had seen Tamlen...

"Hahra! Hahra ay'irde!" She screeched, raising her head towards the sky. "Mythal nal'shey! Andruil kel bor'assan! June vernan nelfrar! Hahra franin ee'yo!"

She was so caught up in screaming prayers of protection and strength to the heavens, she didn't notice Alistair approach her until he took her shoulders and shook her roughly. She focused on him as he shouted angrily at her, something along the lines of her being hysterical, frightening everyone, and perhaps the idea that nothing was going to happen.

She wasn't convinced. But, she had to admit that he was right about two things. She was being hysterical and she was frightening everyone. She breathed in slowly and forced her mind to calm. She knew she wouldn't be at ease, but she could at least be slightly more coherent.

"Abelas Alistair," she murmured. "You're right. Such panic is unbecoming."

"It was just a nightmare," he assured her. "A really bad one, but it's over."

When she didn't reply, he patted her shoulder gently. He then moved away and back towards his tent. How he could consider sleep after a dream like that, Ayale would never know. Perhaps it was a shemlen thing.

"You're wrong about that Alistair," she called to him gravely. "The archdemon wants us dead, and it wants us dead tonight. The nightmare isn't over, yet. It's only just begun."

Zevran and Leliana looked at Ayale uneasily before turning to glance fearfully at the forest. They both had their weapons out and they were ready to spring into action. The others in camp had followed suit, and were preparing themselves for the fight Ayale had assured them was coming.

All were apprehensive, everyone except Alistair.

"Ayale, nothing is going to happen," he promised. "There is nothing-"

"They're here," she interrupted.

Sure enough, her blood was starting to tingle in her veins. It made her want to twitch and jerk at the sensation. She could feel an undeniable urge to move. However, she knew where the urge to move would take her, and she squashed the fancy without hesitation.

Movement behind Leliana caught her attention. She focused on it and saw a darkspawn morph into view as it abandoned stealth for battle.

"Sharlock!" she yelled in alarm.

Leliana spun round and managed to duck under the creature's blade as it made to detach her head from her shoulders. The bard bolted away and drew her bow. When she released it, the arrow struck it just off the jugular, and it emitted a high pitched shriek as it fell to the floor, blood spraying out of the mortal wound.

Suddenly, five more of the creatures appeared. A sixth appeared a short way off, out of the fray. They all screamed as they entered the battle.

Ayale danced around the sharlocks, slicing through their thin armour as she dodged their own blades effortlessly. She knew that she was only leaving flesh wounds on the darkspawn, but she was weakening them, leaving the main killing to the warriors of the groups.

She suddenly spun on her burnt leg and felt herself stumble on it. She fell to the floor, her Dar'Misu and Dar'Misaan sliding away under the feet of her enemies. She rolled onto her back, and instantly regretted it.

Three sharlocks were standing above her. They all raised their arms, their wrist mounted blades gleaming in the firelight, before bringing them down towards her.

She curled her stomach and pulled herself onto her shoulders and, with her palms firmly planted on the ground, pushed up on the momentum. She felt her feet come in contact with something, her guess was a chest, and she heard something cry out in surprise.

She didn't have time to find out what she'd kicked, as she bolted away from the creatures and grabbed her bow. She slung her quiver onto her back and pulled out an arrow.

Away from the fray, she could see just how many they were up against. Her guess of six had been way off. There were more like twice that number, plus the one that was lingering back, the alpha, obviously.

She could see Alistair was struggling against two sharlocks. One, he was holding off with his shield, while the other was being kept at bay by his wildly swinging sword. Ayale aimed carefully at the one hanging off his shield and shot an arrow through its throat. He hit it back before bringing his shield round to smash into the head of the second.

Sten was fending off two with Asala, though the sharlocks were nimble at avoiding his powerful swings. It seemed like it had been good luck when Ayale had spotted his sword lying in Dwyn's house in Redcliff. She had managed to convince the dwarf to part with it without any blood loss. Needless to say, Sten had been quite grateful to her efforts.

Leliana and Zevran were tackling three sharlocks between them. Zevran's blades were dripping with a poison that he had covered them in. Leliana had given up with her bow and was fighting with two daggers. A couple of shots from Ayale's bow levelled the playing field for them.

Two sharlocks were advancing on Morrigan and Wynne. The two mages were sending spells flying towards their approaching assailants. Ayale pulled out two arrows and aimed them carefully before sending both into either back of the two, giving the mages a chance.

The three that Ayale had been stuck with beforehand were coming back to her with a vengeance. She managed to send an arrow into the forehead of one before she had to abandon her bow. She dropped her quiver and spun a kick at the closest, sending it sprawling into the other.

She took advantage of the distraction and ran for her forgotten blades. Sensing the sharlocks close behind her, she jumped towards her weapons, grabbing them as she landed, rolling and then righted herself. She whipped round and swept both her blades before her at the attacking sharlocks. She caught one in the neck, and found herself going one-to-one.

The sharlock was suddenly barrelled to the floor as Alistair rammed into it. He turned to her.

"Kill the alpha!" he ordered. "I'll get this one."

Ayale nodded and raced back to her vantage point. She sheathed her swords, picked up her bow and quiver and focused on the sharlock alpha. The thing had been sitting pretty on the sidelines, watching the battle and obviously commanding the others without putting itself in danger.

Not anymore. Ayale aimed and fired the arrow. It flew true and embedded itself into the alpha's chest, piercing its armour. She drew another arrow, and noticed a second beside her. She glanced over to Leliana, who returned the glance, and then the two women fired.

The alpha screamed in pain and anger. It started running towards the women, only to get another pair of arrows in its chest. With five in total, the sharlock finally fell to the ground, dead.

Ayale lowered her bow slightly as she could no longer see a threat. She saw Alistair's swing take off his enemies head. Sten had finally caught the two he was fighting and they were in pieces. Wynne sent an arcane bolt into her attacker, whilst the sharlock that had gone up against Morrigan suddenly exploded, sending its gory remains everywhere. Zevran slit the throat of his sharlock and was looking in dismay at himself, covered in blood. Shale had just crushed the head of two that Ayale hadn't noticed before, seemingly pleased with the distraction of killing darkspawn.

"Is everyone alright?" Ayale asked concernedly, her breathing strained as she struggled to bring it under control.

Leliana nodded beside her, as breathless as she was, and thankfully just as unharmed. Zevran cracked his cocky grin before calling his assertions. Sten confirmed that he was fine before tending to his sword. Morrigan quipped something Ayale couldn't quite hear, something along the lines that she was fine for being almost skewered. Wynne actually checked herself before stating that she was alright. Shale made a remark about being tougher than her squishy companion that Ayale decided not to respond to.

"I'm okay," Alistair assured, a worried look on his face. "What about you?"

"I'm alive," Ayale replied with a smile, returning her bow to its hold.

She looked around before noticing something. Or, more to the point, she noticed someone was missing. She quickly listed everyone off in her head. Alistair... Leliana... Zevran... Sten... Wynne... Morrigan... Shale... Bodahn... Sandal... Where had those two been during the fight? Then she realised who was missing.

"Torgan!" she shouted. "Torgan, where are you boy?"

She was grateful to barking on the other side of camp. She jogged over to where she could hear the Mabari. He was facing something and was growling at it, whatever it was.

"What've you got there, boy?" Ayale asked as she drew close.

Torgan didn't move but continued to growl. Ayale looked over into the undergrowth, trying to see what had riled the dog. She saw nothing, and she couldn't sense any darkspawn. Then she saw something move, and move towards her.

She took her blades out as quickly as possible, falling into her battle stance. She hushed Torgan as the dog started snarling fiercely. She could feel her chest complain as she held her breathe, waiting for this mysterious creature to show herself.

As the light from camp fell on the creature, Ayale saw that it was a person. She could see the person was wearing leather armour, and recognised it as Dalish leather armour. She dropped her guard slightly, hushing Torgan more severely. Then, the figure walked out into plain sight.

The person was an elf, she could tell that much by the pointed ears, and a man. He was only slightly taller than her. His skin was a horrid red discolouration, covered in sickly black blotches. He had absolutely no hair, from what Ayale could see, not on his head nor the short hair on his arms. The armour looked almost a size too big, before she realised that there was only that effect because the elf was thin, which was a gross understatement.

The elf lifted his head slightly to look at her, and Ayale's breath caught in her throat. The man's eyes were pitch black. And beneath them were what made Ayale startle. Dark marks, darkspawn taint marks, triangular in shape, ran down the man's face.

"You..." he murmured in a hoarse voice. "Lethallan..."

Ayale frowned in confusion. She didn't recognise the elf, but he addressed her as friend. She looked at his face carefully, and noticed the vallaslin of Dirthamen beneath the overwhelming sight of darkspawn corruption.

"T- Tamlen?" she sputtered. "Vel'sry nir hahra! Is that you?"

She lost strength in her hands and her blades fell from her limp hands. The Dar'Misu and Dar'Misaan clattered as they hit the ground, but she didn't notice. All she could do was stare, horrified, at her clanmate.

Tamlen's eyes cleared for a moment. They didn't lighten in colour at all, but a certain realisation entered them. It was as if he had suddenly realised where he was, what he was doing. And he was very, very afraid.

"Don't... don't come near me!" he cried suddenly. "Stay away!"

Tamlen stepped back, shaking his head fearfully. He then turned and ran back into the undergrowth.

"Tamlen!" Ayale yelled in alarm. "Tamlen!"

She started to run after him, when she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind. She yelped in protest, struggling against the hands. However the grip only got tighter as she fought.

"Ayale, no!" a male voice exclaimed behind her. "No, you can't!"

"Yamar'shey!" Ayale shrieked at the top of her voice. "Yamar'shey!"

She twisted and jerked, trying to escape the grip that kept her from chasing after Tamlen. But her efforts were fruitless as the hands held her tightly. Finally, she whipped round, raising one of her elbows above her head. She felt her elbow hit something and the hands let go of her as the individual yelled in surprise and pain.

As soon as the hands released her, she bolted into the forest.

* * *

Elvish translations (my words and phrases in _italics_)

Abelas –Sorrow (Also used for apologies)

_Andruil __kel bor'assan_! –Andruil guide my bow!

_Hahra ay'irde_! –Gods help me!

_Hahra franin ee'yo_! –Gods watch over me tonight!

_Hahra_ –Gods

_June vernan nelfrar_! –June keep my craft strong!

Lethallan –Friend (female)

_Mythal nal'shey_! –Mythal protect me!

Shemlen –Human

_Vel'sry nir hahra_! –Mercy of the gods!

_Yamar'shey_! –Let me go!


	6. Trusting Help

Ayale ran into the forest, not caring that she had no torch to light her way; she didn't need one anyway. She also didn't care for the panicked cries that came from her companions in camp. All she cared about was finding Tamlen.

She knew he had a few seconds lead on her, but she was a master tracker. Also, he had the taint within him, which she could follow. She hadn't noticed the sensation before because the echo from him was so faint, so weak, just like it was in Alistair. But, now that she had sensed him, she knew that she could follow him to the ends of Thedas, if she had to.

A brown shape beside her made her glance to her left and saw Torgan running with her and then overtake her. While she could find Tamlen without him, it would take longer.

"Where is he, boy?" she called breathlessly. "Take me to him!"

Torgan barked twice as he understood her order, and tore into the undergrowth.

Ayale ran after him as quickly as she could. Her lungs were screaming for air and her sides were cramping, but she didn't slow. Her legs were aching as she forced them on, and the burns on her right leg were crying out in pain at the exertion. Her hands were covered in scratches as she pushed herself away from nearby trees and her arms were throbbing from the close impacts.

Suddenly, she ran through a couple of thorny shrubs, and she found Torgan stationary before her, watching something. She slowed and came to a stop beside the Mabari. She saw his ears were flat against his head as he growled a low warning to his prize. Ayale turned her head to follow Torgan's gaze.

It was a small impression into the earth, devoid of trees. There was a fallen tree on the other side, making where Ayale and Torgan were standing the only suitable exit. It was a good enough place for one person to make camp, if not a little restricted in escape routes.

Next to the fallen tree, with his back to Ayale and his hands on the truck, was Tamlen. His head was bowed, his shoulders were scrunched up to his neck and he was hunched towards the tree. From what Ayale could see in the dim light, Tamlen was shaking.

"Good boy," Ayale murmured to Torgan, patting the Mabari's side.

She walked forward slowly. Her footsteps were practically silent on the leaf strewn ground. She took three steps before pausing. She absorbed every miniscule movement from Tamlen, something she had always practised when approaching shaal. It pained her to think of him like that, but he was behaving much like a cornered animal.

"Tamlen?" she called softly to him.

"Don't look at me!" he barked, turning slightly to her. "I am... sick."

A twig snapped behind Ayale and she whipped her bow out instinctively. She had notched an arrow before she finished turning round. She raised her weapon and didn't flinch when Alistair skidded to a halt in front of her.

The templar was covered in blood which was running from his face. It looked like it had been him who had restrained her back in camp, and she had broken his nose. He had his sword in hand and his shield was strapped to his arm. The shemlen looked ready for battle.

Leliana skipped gracefully to a stop beside Alistair, looking confused and very concerned at the situation she had just involved herself in. She had an arrow in her bow, which was currently slack but ready if need arose.

Wynne appeared the other side of Alistair. The mage looked apprehensive as she also assessed the events that were before her. She too looked prepared to engage in another fight, but her face showed how exhausted she was.

Three shemlen standing before her ready bow... this brought back memories that Ayale would rather stay buried.

Everyone stood silently for a moment. Each was trying to weigh one another up. No one was willing to make a move encase things escalated into a big problem.

Leliana's eyes suddenly shifted from Ayale to beyond the elf, and she unconsciously drew tension in her bow and raised it slightly. She must have seen Tamlen, perhaps he'd moved or something...

"Don't," Ayale warned the bard.

"Ayale," Alistair murmured, his tone equally as serious. "What are you doing?"

Whether he did it intentionally or not, Alistair took a step towards Ayale. The elf responded by lowering her bow and releasing the arrow in her bow. The arrow embedded itself into the ground before Alistair's toes, causing the man to recoil with a strangled yelp of surprise. By the time he raised his head from the arrow to look at her in confusion and outrage, she had already readied another arrow.

"I'm protecting my kin," she replied instantly. "I don't want to fight you, Alistair, but the next one won't miss."

"Ayale," Wynne hissed.

"None of you are going to hurt him," Ayale stated with the utmost confidence, her eyes raking over her companions. "I won't let you."

"Ayale," Leliana whispered softly to the agitated elf. "Why are you-?"

"His name is Tamlen," she replied, desperate for a break.

A shocked realisation swept across their faces as soon as she mentioned his name. Leliana's face fell into a sad, pitying expression as she relaxed her bow and lowered it to the floor again. Wynne had also slipped out of her battle stance, though she wasn't putting her staff away. She too was looking at Ayale sympathetically. Alistair, however, hadn't moved a muscle.

"And what do you think you're going to do?" he asked. "You can't help him."

"I'm going to try," Ayale retorted defensively.

"Ayale, he's too far in the corruption," Alistair explained. "And, even if he wasn't, there's no cure for darkspawn corruption."

Ayale's eyes lit up. She didn't quite catch what Alistair said after that, something about mercy killing, but it didn't matter. The idea she had in her head... It was perfect! It was brilliant! The hahra had certainly gifted her with a sharp mind.

"There is one way," Ayale murmured, more to herself than to the shemlen before her.

She glanced down to her chest, wondering and hoping. Her Warden's Oath was there, lying on top of her armour, pitch black in the dim light. Since she had it, all she had to do was convince everyone to let her try.

She looked up to the three before her.

"Please, let me try," she asked, although she could hear an amount of begging in her tone.

"There's no way to help him," Alistair repeated.

"I know what I'm doing, Alistair," she assured. "Please, vegade'ninn. Trust me."

Leliana looked dubiously between the Grey Wardens, wondering who was going to give out first. She then sighed and shook her head. She relaxed her bow completely and returned her arrow to its quiver. She stood straight and watched Wynne relax as well.

Now, they were just waiting for Alistair to follow suit.

"Give her a chance, Alistair," Wynne instructed gently.

"You can't help a ghoul," he insisted. "They're too deep in the corruption. _He_ is too far in the corruption. The archdemon's call will have driven him mad by now. The only thing you can do is kill him out of mercy."

"If that were true, Alistair," Ayale reasoned. "If all you can do for a ghoul is kill them, then I'd be dead."

"You're not a ghoul," Alistair noted.

"Look at my face," she ordered sharply. "I have the taint marks of a ghoul on my face! I may be in the early stages of the process, but I am still a ghoul!"

Alistair didn't speak. He chewed his lip irritably as he weighed out his options, which Ayale had to admit weren't brilliant. He still wasn't convinced that anything could be done for Tamlen. That much was obvious.

"I know what I'm doing," Ayale repeated. "Vegade'ninn."

The templar didn't move for a moment before relenting. He stood straight, but didn't sheath his sword. The look on his face told Ayale that he wasn't going to either.

The elf lowered and relaxed her bow, and nodded to him in understanding. She replaced her arrow and gently placed her quiver and bow on the ground. She remained unfazed by everyone's disapproving looks, and she turned around to face her clanmate.

Tamlen had moved slightly. He was looking over his shoulder to her, probably curious as to what was happening. He had always been curious. It was one of the reasons the pair of them were in this very situation.

Ayale could see a small amount of fear in his eyes. He knew he was trapped. He turned round to face her fully as she slowly approached. He fidgeted and twitched, as if he was trying to stop himself from doing something.

That thought probably wouldn't be too far off the mark. Ayale stopped a safe distance away from him... just in case.

"It's okay, Tamlen," she stated calmly, softly. "I can help you. Don't be afraid."

"No help!" Tamlen closed his eyes and he frowned as he seemed to concentrate. "There's... no help... for me."

Ayale ignored the way her heart skipped a beat at his words, or the way her stomach flipped over. She forced the tears that were threatening to flow back into the depths of her eyes, and demanded to her lungs that they didn't seize up. She couldn't let her body be overrun by the emotions that she refused to register in her brain.

"The song... in my head," Tamlen continued, struggling to speak in sentences. "It... calls to me, sings to me. I can't stop it!"

He held his hands up to press against his head and he cringed at the sound that was only so loud in his own mind.

Ayale knew what he was referring to: the group mind of the darkspawn. It was always there, in the back of her mind, Alistair's too. The archdemon spoke through the taint, commanding all who could hear it. Well, it controlled all the darkspawn. Ayale and Alistair weren't affected by its orders.

Tamlen fidgeted under her unwavering gaze. He twisted his body about slightly as if he was trying to work an ache or itch out of his body. Ayale remembered the pain that had spread through her body before the Joining and knew exactly what he was going through.

He opened his eyes and looked Ayale with a pleading expression.

"I... don't want to hurt you, lethallan," Tamlen groaned pitifully. "Please... stop me."

Ayale froze at the request. Her closely guarded expression fell into utter shock. She knew what he meant when he was asking her to 'stop' him. He wanted to die. Was the torment so great that he would beg for death? She hadn't even proposed her idea to him. She had to try!

"I won't," she replied, shaking her head. "I won't kill you. I can help you, Tamlen. You have to let me try!"

"Then... I'll have to make you," Tamlen mused. "I'm... so sorry, lethallan. Never... wanted this..."

Ayale barely had time to understand what he meant when her clanmate screamed and lunged at her. His fists were raised in a threatening gesture and he swiped at her.

Ayale easily dodged out of the way, moving to his left. She watched him stumble as he missed her, and she waited patiently as he regained his balance. He was crouched over, gasping for breath, when he suddenly yelled and charged at her again. For a second time, she slipped away from his sluggish and uncoordinated attack.

She saw Alistair step towards them, his sword raised. She held out her hand to him, causing the shemlen to pause. She didn't look at him, focusing on Tamlen and his movements, ready to spring away from him like a halla away from a bear.

A halla away from a bear... the creatures of Ghilan'nain and Dirthamen, the gods that she and he honoured through their vallaslin... had she thought that on purpose?

To her relief, Alistair lowered his sword but continued to watch the situation before him with the utmost scrutiny. She could see that he was waiting for any reason, any excuse, to come in with his sword swinging.

Tamlen lunged at her a third time and Ayale skipped around him gracefully. She saw him turn to charge at her a fourth time, but he had a dazed look about him. He had spun round to follow her and he hadn't given himself time to let his head settle, thus making him dizzy. He stepped towards before tripping over himself and landing on the floor.

Ayale was still as she waited for any indication that it was a trick. Although she doubted he was lucid enough to make that kind of tactic, she wasn't about to risk it. She watched him struggle to get back onto his feet, falling to a side twice.

When Tamlen finally managed to raise himself to rest on his hands and knees, Ayale knelt down.

"Tamlen, look at me," she instructed softly.

Her clanmate shook his head, cringing into himself further. She could hear him muttering quietly to himself, and his shoulders shook as he cried. He had obviously realised that he couldn't goad her into killing him.

"Tamlen, look at me," she repeated sternly. "Look at my face."

Reluctantly, he raised his head and looked forlornly at her. She felt her heart break at his expression, but she refused to let herself be swayed. She had to help him, or at least try. She raised a hand to slowly caress one of her cheeks, and one of her taint marks.

"Do you see this, Tamlen?" she asked gently. "Do you understand what it means?"

His eyes flickered across her face. Confusion crept into his expression, showing that he didn't understand. When he finally returned his attention to her eyes, a small glimmer of curiosity was present in his. He shook his head slightly.

"It means that I was sick," Ayale explained calmly. "Just like you."

She knew that it was a gross simplification, but she also knew that he probably wouldn't understand anything more complex. At least, he wouldn't while he was like this.

Regardless, Tamlen understood enough. His face fell into surprise when he realised what she was implying. A flicker of hope shone in his eyes, but Ayale could see that it was a dwindling flame.

"The shemlen," she continued, risking a glance over to her companions before looking back at him. "They gave me medicine, a kind of cure. They saved me."

While she gave time for Tamlen to comprehend her words, she reached for her Warden's Oath. She twisted it slightly, unscrewing the lid off the vial. When the tiny container was free, she held it out slightly towards him.

"That cure is in this vial, Tamlen," she stated. "All you have to do is drink it."

He looked at her and then to the vial, back to her, and back to the vial. He didn't move for a moment. It was as if he couldn't believe that his salvation was in a tiny bottle that his clanmate was holding before him.

Slowly, he shifted his weight onto his left arm and raised his right. His hand was shaking as he reached out to Ayale and the vial. He stretched out his hand farther and farther, closer and closer to her own.

He then cringed and shot his hand back. He lost his balance and fell onto his back, but rolled over and bolted upright. He ran to the tree trunk, as far away from Ayale as he could be in the tiny glade. He shook violently, holding his head in his hands as he scrunched his face in anguish.

"No, no, no, no, no," he half-muttered, half-cried. "Can't... I can't lethallan. I can't..."

Ayale stood up slowly. She winced as her legs cramped up against her, and her burns complaining even more. She stepped towards her clanmate, struggling to not limp. She frowned concernedly, waiting for him to explain.

"The... the song... I can't," he explained in broken sentences. "It's... it's always there. I can't stop it. It tells me to... to... do things, but I... I don't want to..."

Ayale chewed her lip thoughtfully. If the echoes from the darkspawn group mind were preventing Tamlen from taking the vial, well, without trying to kill her in the process. If only there was something else he could focus on.

"When we were da'len, Ashalle taught us something," Ayale noted curiously. "Do you remember what it was?"

Tamlen frowned in confusion at the new direction of topic. He squinted for a moment to show her that he didn't remember, nor could he understand why she was asking.

"She taught us that the hahra watch over us, all the time, even if we can't see them, or feel their presence," she reminded.

His eyes flickered as he tried to remember what she was talking about. However, he eventually shook his head to her.

"Then I'll just have to teach it to you all over again," she surmised. "If the song you hear isn't good, then sing a different song. Listen to me, Tamlen. Listen to me and sing."

She knew that just saying the words wouldn't be enough for him. No spoken words had the same power as the ones that whispered in her friend's head, and also within her own. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She listened for the call of the darkspawn within her mind, and she searched for her voice within the call.

When she opened her eyes, she opened her mouth and sang.

~:_Hahra frao ee'ya:~  
__~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~_

Tamlen's eyes widen in surprise when she sang the first two lines. He looked at her in amazement and confusion as her words reached him through the taint, as she was certain it had.

She smiled and sang the next lines.

_~:Uus noob'eila:~  
__~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~_

She saw Tamlen mouth the last word. His movements weren't as twitchy as they had been, and his attention was focused entirely on her. But, it wasn't a dangerous focus, more like the old proverb 'a drowning man clutching at straws'.

She was suddenly a lifeline for him, and he wasn't going to let go anytime soon. So when she sang the rest of the song, Tamlen quietly sang along.

_~:Ootu'ras more hooa'uus:~  
__~:Ootu'ras more ias:~  
__~:Morid'ya_:~

Ayale stepped towards him, holding out the vial to him. She saw his eyes widen fearfully, but he quickly squashed the emotion and watched her with a determination that she hadn't seen since the two of them had entered that temple that had torn their lives apart.

The pair of them sang the song quietly as the distance between them slowly closed. Ayale was still singing when she raised the vial to Tamlen's lips and poured the contents into his mouth.

"Swallow it," she instructed when he did nothing. "Tamlen, swallow it!"

He gulped awkwardly, and there was silence between them as they waited for the cure to take effect.

Then, Tamlen cried out in pain and grabbed his head. Ayale held his shoulders as he went through the Joining. When he fell to his knees, she went down with him, watching him all the time. She started singing again, trying to help him focus.

He suddenly struck out. His hands wrapped themselves around her neck and were in the perfect position to strangle her. However, he didn't tighten his grip.

She raised a hand to her shoulder as she heard movement behind her. Obviously Alistair was getting twitchy with the situation, and Leliana and Wynne probably weren't at ease either. Regardless, she didn't stop singing. She could hear Tamlen trying to sing with her, though his voice was breaking under the pain and the words were disjointed.

Eventually, his hands slipped down from her throat to rest on her shoulders. He doubled over and he brought his hands down to sit on the back of his head and laced his fingers together. His shoulders shook as he fought against the pain.

Ayale knew he was merely one moment away from screaming his throat raw. She laid her hands on his back and massaged the tense muscles in his shoulders and back. All the time, she continued to sing softly to him, hoping that her voice was giving him some small comfort.

Then, all the tension in Tamlen's body was gone and he went limp.

* * *

End note: Sorry, another cliff hanger. I know I'm evil. I wonder if anyone can guess where the song is from. I'll reveal it in the next chapter, but I'm curious as to everyone's thoughts.

Elven translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

Da'len –Child

_Hahra_ –Gods

Lethallan –Friend (female)

Shaal –animal (Spoken by my character when she entered battle with wolves)

Shemlen –Human

_Vegade'ninn_ –Trust me

Vallaslin –Blood writing

_(The next lot of translations are my personal translations, and are only valid for my story)_

Hahra frao ee'ya –The gods watch over you in the day

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Uus noob'eila –They are there when you dream

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Ootu'ras more hooa'uus –They call you to join their games

Ootu'ras more ias –They call you to join so

Morid'ya –Don't be afraid


	7. Rising Doubts

Ayale was silent as soon as she felt Tamlen go limp in her arms. She looked down at him fearfully and felt her breath catch in her throat. She gently eased him off her lap and onto his side on the ground, where she shifted away from him so she could look at him better.

His whole body was relaxed, that much was obvious. With his armour so loose on his wasted frame, she couldn't see if he was breathing. She hesitantly pressed her fingers into his neck, and searched for a pulse. There had to be one... there had to be!

She finally found it, weak but there. She could feel the skin on the palm of her outstretched hand warm slightly from Tamlen's faint breaths. He had survived the Joining. He was alive... barely.

Beneath her fingers, Ayale could feel the heat in his skin. She moved her hand to rest the back of her fingers against his cheek and then his forehead. He was burning up. Fever!

When she had been sick with fever, the taint had almost drained the life from her. Tamlen's hold in the world was already so weak! Was he to survive the Joining, only to die at the hands of a fever? Had she just saved him for nothing?

Panicking, Ayale looked over her shoulder to the three shemlen that had been watching the spectacle. Leliana looked apprehensive and sympathetic, obviously thinking Tamlen was dead. Wynne also had a sorrowful expression. But Alistair... he looked like he had just watched an abomination take form, his expression was a mixture of shock, horror and queasiness.

"Hahren!" Ayale cried, her tone begging. "Hahren ay'irde! Help me please!"

Wynne joined her side instantly. She knelt down beside Tamlen and checked him over herself. She didn't speak to Ayale, her attention fully on the ghoul. When her examination was finished, Wynne stood up and cast a spell.

A gentle light enveloped Tamlen before disappearing. To Ayale, it looked like the light had fused into her clanmate and was lying under his skin. As if he didn't have enough things messing around with him at the moment.

"The lifeward will preserve his life, for now," Wynne noted. "I would prefer to tend to him in camp, where all my potions are, and where there's a decent light."

Ayale nodded understandingly as she looked down at Tamlen's face. It then struck her that, while Tamlen hadn't eaten much in the last three months and would have lost a lot of weight because of that, he was still going to be too heavy for her to carry back to camp. She wasn't even sure how far she'd manage to drag him, and through a forest, that would probably cause him more injuries.

She looked over to Alistair. After everything that had happened, it seemed very unfair of her to ask him to help. However, she knew she had little choice.

"Alistair... will you help, please?" she asked, praying that she didn't sound like she was putting him on the spotlight.

Alistair looked at her nervously. She couldn't say that she blamed him, though. She had just asked him to help her carry someone he'd just watched try to strangle her. In his position, she'd have been hesitant.

"He's out cold, Alistair," Wynne observed, obviously thinking along the same lines. "And even if he wasn't, I doubt he'd have the strength to hurt anyone now."

Alistair glanced dubiously at the mage. The look on his face screamed that he had a thousand problems with the plan that had somehow been formed without his knowing. He was about to open his mouth to say something, when he looked back at Ayale. Obviously the look on her face was that desolate, as he reluctantly nodded his head and sheathed his sword.

He stepped towards the trio, putting his shield away in the process. When he reached them, he knelt down beside Tamlen. With a little help from Ayale, he slung the young man over his shoulder. And after Wynne checked that everything was okay, he stood up.

Ayale wondered if that was the sight that her clan had seen when Duncan had walked into their camp with her thrown over his shoulder. Her clan... she missed them so much. Keeper Marethari would know what to do in the situation before her...

But Keeper Marethari wasn't with her! She had to stop wishing for her clan to appear out of nowhere and come to her rescue. She had to rely on the people around her, and she would have to pray to the hahra that Wynne's magic would be enough.

"Ayale?" Leliana asked concernedly.

She looked up and realised that everyone was leaving the glade, only she and Leliana hadn't moved. Wynne and Alistair had paused to look at her, before Alistair had urged the mage on back to the camp, leaving the bard and elf alone.

"Are you okay?" Leliana queried.

"Yeah, I..." Ayale trailed off, thinking of an explanation. "I just need a minute, to catch my breath."

"Okay," the bard nodded, unconvinced. "Do you know the way back?"

Ayale nodded, smiling slightly, though it felt fake to her. Regardless, she saw the woman turn away to leave her alone in the glade. She could hear her whisper an order to Torgan, something about ensuring that Ayale got back to camp.

And then, Ayale was alone.

She was silent, breathing in and out through her mouth. She could feel the slow rhythm slowly picking up speed, and the air seemed to catch in her throat. A juttering sound echoed in the silence as she inhaled, and she sighed, rather than exhaled.

The tears she refused to acknowledge beforehand started pricking at her eyes, and she allowed them to fall. Their heat seared her cheeks, as if they demanded retribution for being ignored for so long. She wondered if they would wash away the taint marks on her face, but as she wiped her eyes, she could still feel the taint that lied just under her skin.

She had never been sure how to describe the feeling that the taint left on her skin. It was... like the bark of a sapling tree, still supple with youth and smooth from a distance, but rough under the fingers. It was hard, like the mud that would sometimes cake her and then dry out on her skin whilst they trekked.

It was strange what odd thoughts would come into a mind that had nothing better to think of. Or perhaps, it was a mind that thought of such things because it did not want to think of something else.

She hadn't hesitated when she fired that arrow at Alistair's feet. Granted, it had been aimed at the ground... but she would have readily shot as his breastplate. Even if the arrow had bounced off harmlessly, the fact that she had shot at him would remain.

Everything they had done, everything they had worked so hard for in the last two months, had all been undone in nothing more than a few minutes. All it had taken was a choice that she had been unprepared to make.

"It wasn't fair," she whispered desolately.

There was no answer, nor did she expect one. But the silence only made her feel more alone. There was no one there to tell her that she was right, that the choice hadn't been fair, that she shouldn't have been forced to choose. There was no one to comfort her, no one to help her see the path that seemed so obscure to her.

More tears fell as she thought about how events had turned out. It was obvious how upset Alistair was. She knew that she had lost a lot of the respect she had earned from him, and Leliana and Wynne would probably be doubting her now. All of camp would probably be questioning her loyalties, herself included.

She had been forced to choose between Alistair, a shemlen that she had only known for a couple of months, and Tamlen, her friend for longer than she dared admit. The result would either be losing the new clan that had built up around her since Ostagar, or losing the most important person in her life.

She continued to wipe away the tears that fell down her face. She felt the slight scarring on her cheeks where Marethari had cut her skin to grant her the vallaslin to honour Ghilan'nain. She paused, wondering why the hahra had given her such a choice.

"Ghilan'nain," she whined heartbrokenly. "It wasn't fair. Why? Why did you make me choose?"

She looked up to the heavens, the tears obscuring her sight slightly. But, she could still see that it was a clear night, and that the stars were shining down on her. She blinked to clear her eyes, and she quickly and easily picked out the constellation of stars that formed the halla goddess' shape.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she confided to the goddess. "The path twists and turns, and is covered in blood. I don't know my way, anymore. Please, Ghilan'nain... please... ay'irde."

A low sad whine startled her, and Ayale spun her head round to find herself staring at Torgan. He padded slowly up to her, either understanding or merely mimicking her desolation. He whined as she raised a hand and fondled his ears. He settled by her side and the two of them remained like that for a moment, the dog giving her the comfort that she otherwise wouldn't find.

"Ma serannas, Torgan," Ayale whispered after a few seconds.

She sniffed, cleared her eyes and breathed in deeply to calm herself. She then made to stand, before hissing in pain and crumpling back down into her kneeling position. The burns on her leg were throbbing angrily, worse than she remembered them doing, and her muscles were cramping.

She shifted slightly so she sat on the floor. She slowly stretched her legs out, rubbing her muscles gently, trying to coax them into functioning. She left her burns alone, knowing that there was little she could do to ease the pain.

She rose to her feet and limped slowly towards the exit. She heard Torgan pad quietly after her, remaining just a couple of feet behind her.

She looked down at her quiver and bow, knowing that she would have to pick them up. The burns on her right leg ached and she knew that she wouldn't be able to bend her leg without upsetting them. In the hopes of a compromise, Ayale stuck her right leg out at an angle, bending her left knee so she crouch low enough to pick up her belongings.

She held her thigh to maintain her balance and reached down to pick up her quiver, hooking the belt with her fingers. She slung it over to rest on her back. She looked down unenthusiastically at her bow. The slim Dalish design meant that she would have to bend down lower to pick it up. Reluctantly, she bent over.

The bow suddenly lifted up to her hand. She stared at in surprise before turning her head to see Torgan holding the bow gently in his massive jaws. Ayale smiled gratefully and took the bow from him. Once she stood up and had brought her hurting leg back to take her weight, she moved the bow to her right hand and stroked the huge Mabari.

"Ma serranas, Torgan," she thanked him for a second time that night. "Would you mind if I leaned on you as we walk back?"

Torgan stuck his tongue out to pant before closing his mouth. Ayale took that as him granting her permission. She wrapped her left arm over his hulking form, holding on gently to his studded collar. It amazed her how huge the dog really was, his head reaching up to her shoulders and the rest of his body was up to her bust.

She used her bow as added help, moving it forwards whenever she stepped forward with her right foot. She fervently clung to her two supports, her bow and Torgan, knowing that she wouldn't have a hope to possibly make her way to camp without either.

Finally, the camp firelight shone on her eyes and she realised that they were back at camp. She hadn't really paid attention to the journey, letting Torgan guide her back. Taking more focus on not screaming in pain, she hadn't even noticed how long the walk had been.

She looked around to see Alistair emerge from a nearby tent. It was obviously the one that was holding her clanmate, not that she was going to ask. By the look on the templar's face, she knew that the young man was seething, and wanted to have words with her.

She patted Torgan's side gently, sending him back to his little spot by the fire. She walked slowly towards Alistair, and stopped when she saw that he was approaching her at a much more rapid speed.

There was no two ways to describe him: he was angry. This conversation... was not going to be pleasant.

"What. Was. That?" he demanded when he had closed the distance significantly.

"I helped a friend," Ayale replied calmly.

She knew that it was a smart answer but she didn't know what else to say, lest she enraged the shemlen further. She had a feeling that anything she said would only darken his usually-upbeat mood. And, she wasn't proven wrong.

"Helping a friend?" he echoed incredulously. "You spared a ghoul! He's not the person you knew, Ayale! He's been changed by the taint! There was nothing you could have done to help him!"

"Then explain to me why he's still alive," she challenged.

"Because Wynne couldn't take that desolate face of yours!" Alistair retorted. "She helped because-"

"That's not what I was talking about, and you know it!" she hissed angrily.

Alistair was silent for a moment, his face uncharacteristically dark. He glared at her, and with the height advantage of being a shemlen, he towered over her too. However, if he was expecting her to back down, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"What is it exactly that you have a problem with?" she demanded.

"You mean, besides the fact that he's a ghoul and therefore closely connected to the darkspawn, almost to the point where they could track him down if so ordered to?" Alistair chided. "How about breaking the Warden's Oath for a pointless task?"

"You didn't have a problem with me breaking it a few days ago," she stated hotly, her voice rising in volume.

"You did that by accident, this was on purpose," Alistair noted.

"My Warden's Oath is mine to break!" she yelled.

Alistair looked at her severely for a few seconds. He was breathing heavily, rapidly, as if he thought that would cool his rising temper. When he had calmed down slightly, he opened his mouth.

"He asked you to end it," Alistair observed. "I heard him. He asked you to stop him, to end his pain. And what you did do?"

"He didn't know there was another option!" Ayale snapped. "And, if you'll recall, as soon as I offered him the vial, he took it without hesitation."

"It may all be for nothing," Alistair warned. "You broke the necklace to save a ghoul, a creature that can't be saved. If that liquid really could be used for the Joining, don't you think it's somewhat of a waste to use it like you did?"

Ayale's face darkened as she read the meaning below Alistair's words. She glared furiously at the templar, and he shrank slightly under her intensity.

"Don't you mean it's a waste that I used the liquid on an elf?" she spat venomously.

"No no no!" Alistair protested immediately, waving his hands around. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then are you saying that a necklace is more valuable than a person's life, in general?" she demanded.

"That's not what I meant!" Alistair insisted. "That's not what I meant at all!"

His anger seemed to have dissipated into nothing. Worry and shock had replaced the emotion as he had obviously realised how carelessly he had chosen his words.

"Then what did you mean?" Ayale challenged.

Alistair opened and closed his mouth numerous times, trying to find a way to explain himself. Not a sound left him, however. He looked at her helplessly, a face that he often gave her when his brain had frozen on him. It happened often when he was under pressure, so she knew the expression well.

But she was not going to be sparing him at that moment. She was angrier than she had ever been at the implications he had made, and she had no desire to pull Alistair out of the fire that he'd thrown himself into.

She shifted her weight slightly, waiting for him to come up with an answer, a reason, an explanation. As she moved, she inadvertently stretched her right leg, and the burns flared up painfully. She looked down and hissed. Tears rose to her eyelids, and she fought then back down.

A strangled cry from the nearby tent made Ayale and Alistair turn their attention away from each other. Ayale pushed all of her pent up anger to a side and she frowned worriedly. She was certain that cry had come from Tamlen, and she knew that he was in the tent.

She heard Alistair sigh in resignation and she glanced at him.

"You might as well go and see him," Alistair noted, shrugging his shoulders. "May you can do something to calm him, something that Wynne can't do."

With that, he sauntered away from her and towards the main camp fire. She watched him walk away for a while before turning her attention back to the tent that held her clanmate and Wynne.

Slowly, she limped over.

* * *

End note: Is no one even going to try and guess where the song is from? It couldn't be that hard, surely. I'll wait another chapter, and then I'll tell everyone where it's from.

Elven translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

_Ay'irde_ –Help me

_Hahra_ –Gods

Hahren –Elder

_Hahren ay'irde_ –Elder help me.

Ma serannas –Thank you

Shemlen –Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing


	8. Waiting Game

"May I enter hahren?" Ayale asked timidly, outside the tent.

"Are you and Alistair finished arguing?" Wynne questioned.

"Y-yes hahren," Ayale confirmed.

She was glad that it was still dark, so Wynne couldn't see her flush with embarrassment. If the mage had heard them arguing, then there was a good chance that the rest of camp had heard. She wouldn't have been surprised if Morrigan had heard.

The young Dalish had a feeling that camp was going to have a very uncomfortable atmosphere for a while.

"Then yes, you may enter," Wynne announced.

Ayale pushed the cloth door away and ducked in. There was a candle beside Wynne, which she was using to light the tent. And, lying on the sleeping mat was Tamlen.

At first, Ayale thought he was lying deathly still, but realised a second later that he was trembling. He had broken out into a cold sweat, which lay in beads across his face. Had he still had his hair, she was certain that it would have been plastered onto his head. His breathing was shallow and rapid, but his mouth moved slightly as if he was trying to speak. If he was saying anything, the words were too quiet for her to hear and would probably be too slurred to be understood.

"How..." Ayale broke off, clearing her throat. "How is he?"

"I'm not sure," Wynne replied honestly. "I've used every healing and restorative spell that I can think of. They've given him a little more strength, but other than that... The lifeward seems to be doing the most for him."

"Ma serannas, hahren," the elf murmured. "I owe you for this."

"Don't be silly," the mage chided softly. "I was happy to help."

"That's not what Alistair said," Ayale muttered darkly.

"He says a lot of things," Wynne noted. "Not everything is true. You do know that he wasn't making a racial comment against your people, don't you?"

"Yes hahren," Ayale nodded. "But, I was just so angry at what he was saying. Tamlen's alive, so what I did wasn't so hopeless, was it?"

She looked fearfully at the mage. She could feel the tears coming back to the surface with a vengeance. If she got rebuked for this, she was going to cry, she knew it.

"I did do the right thing, didn't I hahren?" she asked, her voice trembling. "It was right for me to try to save him, wasn't it?"

Beside them, Tamlen moaned quietly. He shifted on the mat uncomfortably and he scrunched his face slightly in anguish. He quietened slightly when Wynne placed a cool cloth on his forehead, dabbing his face and cleaning it of perspiration.

"Yes, Ayale," Wynne replied after Tamlen calmed down. "I believe you did the right thing. Perhaps you didn't choose... the most appropriate method, but your heart was in the right place."

"Is that enough, though?" Ayale mumbled.

"It will have to be," the mage answered, despite knowing that the question had been rhetorical.

Ayale's lips twisted into a half hearted smile, grateful for the mage's words. They may not be the words of comfort that she might have hoped for, but they were full of something that she could draw strength from, replenishing the dwindling amount within her.

It was then that her legs started to ache, and she realised that she was still standing. She began to crouch, hoping to make a relatively graceful descent to the floor. The burns on her leg had other ideas. She managed to stop herself from screaming, instead wincing in pain and creased her face up slightly at the agony.

"Are your burns hurting?" Wynne frowned in concern.

"I think I stretched them during the fight with the sharlocks," Ayale mused. "But, don't worry about me. I'll survive."

"That may be," Wynne agreed. "But you don't have to suffer any unnecessary pain."

Without any further comment, Wynne stretched her hand out to Ayale's leg, closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. A blue mist surrounded the burns and infused itself into the blistering skin. Immediately, Ayale felt a cooling relief spread through the injury and the rest of her leg.

She smiled gratefully to Wynne, wiping away the tear that had managed to escape from her eye. With her burns no longer aching as badly as they had been, she settled into a more comfortable sitting position.

She noticed that Tamlen had also relaxed somewhat, more than when she had first entered the tent. She smiled in relief, and saw Wynne share the notion.

"Ayale, if I may ask, what exactly was that song that you sang?" Wynne asked curiously as she checked Tamlen over again.

"Oh... that," Ayale giggled in embarrassment. "It's something that we were taught when we were young. It's the first thing we learn as da'len, and the first thing we teach when we have da'len of our own."

"So... it's very important?" Wynne assessed.

"Yes, but not in the way you're probably thinking. It's... it's a lullaby," Ayale explained.

"Oh?" the mage frowned in confusion.

"We teach it to da'len, and we teach them what it means," the elf clarified. "The song loses some of its meaning in translation, but... in brief, it tells us that the hahra watch over us during the day and the night, and that they're there while we dream. It tells us that they call us to play their games in the forests of old, so we don't need to fear sleep."

"That sounds like a good lullaby for children," Wynne agreed. "I would certainly have been comforted by that idea, that there was a god out there that watched over me while I slept."

"But you had the spirit watching over you, hahren," Ayale noted, a coy smile on her face.

"Yes, that's true," Wynne chuckled.

They sat quietly for a moment. Ayale could hear voices coming from outside the tent, but she couldn't discern what the conversation was, or who was talking. Tamlen was breathing in rasping breaths, but he didn't sound strained so she didn't worry about it. He twitched and frowned slightly, as if he was dreaming something that was mildly unpleasant.

Of course, that wasn't what she'd describe any dream that involved the archdemon. Hopefully, that meant he was dreaming of something else.

"Would you mind singing it again?" Wynne requested suddenly. "You sang it quite wonderfully in the glade, and I suppose I'm just curious as to what it would sound without you under pressure."

"Hmm... I guess there's no reason for me not to," Ayale noted. "Besides, Tamlen might hear too."

Wynne smiled indulgently to the Dalish, waiting patiently for the song.

~:Hahra frao ee'ya:~  
~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~  
~:Uus noob'eila:~  
~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~

Ayale smiled and nodded towards Tamlen. His lips were moving slightly, in time with her own as she sang the words. She saw Wynne flash a smile at the young man, and then nod encouragingly to her to continue.

~:Ootu'ras more hooa'uus:~  
~:Ootu'ras more ias:~  
~:Morid'ya:~

"It seems he could hear you," Wynne observed.

"I just hope it helps," Ayale mused. "I suffered a fever after becoming tainted... it took all of Keeper Marethari's power to break its hold on me, and even then, I was out for two days."

"Well, I don't know how strong my magic is compared to your Keeper, but I'll do my best," Wynne promised.

"I know that," Ayale assured. "Ma serannas hahren."

The mage smiled for a moment. She then handed Ayale the cloth and, after an awkward passing past each other, she left the tent.

Ayale looked down at Tamlen's sleeping face, smiling slightly. She imagined him as she remembered him, with his light brown hair that always had a tuff somewhere and pale skin that, like hers, refused to tan. The fact that he was covered in cold sweat didn't matter, she'd tended him before when he had accidently eaten poisonous berries.

She dampened the cloth in the bowl, wringing out the excess water. She then proceeded to dab the cool cloth across his brow, cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Raising the cloth, she noticed the dirt and grime that she had incidentally rubbed off. Perhaps he didn't look nearly as bad as she had originally thought.

Her eyes left his face and flitted down to his shoulders. From there, she followed his arms down to where his hands were. One had been laid on top of his stomach, and the other, furthest away from her, followed his body and rested beside his calf.

Careful, so as not to disturb him, she gently lifted her clanmate's hand off his stomach, and she held onto it lightly with both hands. She felt the warmth of his palm and fingers against her own. She bent down, even as she raised his hand up, and softly kissed his knuckles.

"Listen to me Tamlen, please," she whispered. "Are you listening to me, lethallin?"

His hand constricted slightly, applying a small but definite against her hands. She could feel his fingers twitching slightly, squeezing a little harder than each other at times. But overall, his didn't lessen his grip on her hands.

She smiled.

"I just wanted to let you know that–"

She silenced herself as she heard arguing voices from beyond the tent. She could tell that one of the voices was Alistair's, and she was sure that another was Leliana's. She wasn't entirely certain what they were arguing about, but she had a feeling that it was about her decision to spare Tamlen.

The next few days were going to be the longest days of her life, of that, she was certain.

* * *

Morning came and was half gone by the time Ayale left the tent which held her unconscious clanmate. She had only left the tent because the water was now warm, and didn't aid in cooling Tamlen. It was also full of the dirt and grime that Ayale had managed to clean off him.

Wynne had returned at dawn, tending to Tamlen's rising temperature and shivers that had developed overnight. She had praised Ayale's diligence, but scolded her for staying up the entire night. She was also unimpressed that the she-elf hadn't eaten breakfast.

In an attempt to appease the mage, Ayale left the tent to fetch clean water, and get a bite to eat. She wasn't interested in food at all, and had only said that she would be getting herself food to stop the mage from fussing.

Turning to the clearing behind the main circle of tents, she could see that the sharlock bodies were being burnt, giving off a horrid, sickening smell of burning flesh. She wondered if they smelt worse because of their tainted forms.

She caught sight of Alistair watching the pyres, obviously ensuring that everything was destroyed. The templar looked at her for a moment, before turning away. Even though she knew his cold shoulder was justly deserved, Ayale couldn't hide the fact that his actions hit her in the stomach.

She held onto the bowl of water and made for the stream that they camped near to. When she arrived, she poured the water from the bowl away and cleaned the piece of pottery for a few minutes. Once she was certain that it was thoroughly, she filled it with clean, cool water.

She was careful as she returned to camp. She walked slowly, not only for the benefit of going easy on her burns, but to ensure that she didn't spill any of the water. She wondered if it would have been easier if she had taken a pitcher, but argued that she wouldn't have been able to clean the bowl if she had done so.

When she re-entered camp, everyone was clustered around the main fire. She received passing glances and much longer looks from everyone. The hardest stares were from Sten and Alistair.

She paused for a moment, looking at everyone in turn. She had never felt so uncomfortable, not even when she had entered Ostagar for the first time. Then, she had known that she was entering hostile territory, and she had been expecting enmity from the shemlen. However this was camp, she was meant to feel safe, among friends.

She struggled to swallow the lump that had somehow settled in her throat. She stiffened her back and forced herself to keep walking. She kept her head up, trying not to show how uneasy she really was.

Suddenly, her foot slipped from underneath her. She released the bowl and saw it and the water it carried fly into the air, going in the general direction of behind her. She felt her legs being thrown forwards as her back and head made an unexpected meeting with the ground.

_Thud! Crack!_

She felt the back of her head slam against the hard ground and her legs scrapped along the pebbles and stones that stuck out in random places from the earth.

She stayed there, motionless for a moment. She stared at the sky, watching the clouds pass by slowly. She had heard the bowl had hit the ground and smash, which meant that she would have to return to find another bowl and go back to the stream.

"Ayale!" Leliana screeched in a hysterically panicked voice.

Ayale blinked and started to sit up. She saw the bard run over to her. She felt the woman's hands on her shoulders and back, helping her get at least her body, if not her legs, vertically arranged.

Once she was sitting up, her legs still splayed out before her, she saw what she had tripped on. It was piece of firewood that had escaped from the majority. She could see that her legs, all the way up to her thighs, were bloody from tearing her skin on less than smooth stones.

For some reason, she didn't feel any pain. She knew that she should be feeling agony over this new assault on her legs, and her head, but she couldn't feel anything. She wondered if she'd felt too much pain that she'd worn out her nerves, leaving her numb.

She saw Leliana look over to someone on her right. She absentmindedly remembered that the bard was looking in the general direction where Alistair usual sat. She noticed the shemlen glare angrily at her target, before huffing and returning her focus to Ayale. The bard's features softened in worry.

"Come on, let's get you to Wynne," Leliana ordered, taking charge.

"I'm fine," Ayale replied dazedly.

"Right, you've just had your legs ripped open, and you're fine," Leliana agreed sarcastically.

A blood curdling scream echoed in camp, causing Leliana and Ayale to flinch in surprise. The scream quickly died down into a pain filled yell. Regardless, the sound turn Ayale's entire body to ice, stopping her heart and closing her airways.

"Tamlen!" she gasped, recognising the voice.

She turned to look behind her to the broken bowl. She twisted so that she was on her hands and knees and was about to move towards the fragments when Leliana held her shoulders, stopping her from moving.

"I have to get another bowl," Ayale explained.

"Ayale," Leliana murmured softly.

"I have to get more fresh water," Ayale continued, not listening to the bard.

"Ayale," the woman called again.

"I... I have to–"

"Ayale!"

Alistair suddenly moved in front of the jabbering elf, holding her face gently. He ran his thumbs across Ayale's face, brushing away the tears that she hadn't noticed running down her cheeks. He looked at her with something akin to pity. He pursed his lips for a moment before breathing in to speak.

"I can get that," he offered. "Why don't you go with Leliana to Wynne? She can look to your injuries–"

"But Tamlen!" she protested.

"You can go and calm him down while Wynne is tending to you," Alistair explained. "Maybe he'll relax if you sing that song, huh? It seems like something that will calm him down."

Ayale blinked at him, not understanding him for a moment. It seemed so hard for her to believe that he would want to help, after the argument they'd had only one night previous. She stared at him, scrutinising every line on his face, discerning whether he was being honest.

"Ma serannas, lethallan," she whispered hoarsely.

Alistair nodded and then his hands left her face. He shifted to stand on the side of her body that wasn't being occupied by Leliana. Between the two shemlen, Ayale got to her feet and was leaning heavily on the bard's shoulder as the woman led her towards Wynne's tent.

The ice that had frozen her brain suddenly decided to thaw, leaving her with the almost immobilising pain that was clawing at her from her legs. She didn't stop moving, knowing that she would be able to move again if she did. She didn't scream, either, for it seemed like Tamlen was doing enough of that for her.

Perhaps he was screaming for her, knowing that she couldn't do it herself.

Wynne looked utterly horrified when the two women made their way into the tent, seeing the state of Ayale's legs. She instantly ushered the agonised elf to a spot where she could assess the damage. Once she was finished with the assessment, she muttered a spell that cleansed the wounds and then healed them.

Once the mist that Wynne had called up had either evaporated into the air or infused into the elf's limbs, Ayale's skin was completely unmarred. There weren't even scars from the burns that Ayale had unintentionally inflicted upon herself. There was a slight discolouration where the scars would have been, but Wynne was mumbling something about being confident that the marks would fade.

However, Ayale wasn't listening to her. She was listening to Tamlen, or more to the point, the sound that he was no longer making. He wasn't yelling, or screaming, or making any sound that indicated that he was in discomfort in anyway. In fact, he had stopped yelling a few moments after the pain had hit Ayale in full force.

"Why was he yelling?" Ayale asked concernedly.

Wynne looked at her in surprise, before turning to look at Tamlen. She pursed her lips as she frowned in thought. Finally, the mage shook her head.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I heard a crash outside and Leliana screaming your name. I was about to leave the tent to find out what had happened when he started screaming. He stopped as suddenly as he'd started and then you two stumbled in."

"What does that mean?" Ayale mumbled rhetorically.

Before anyone could even attempt to offer an answer, the tent flap opened and Alistair stuck his head in. He looked about the tent for a moment, taking in the three women and Tamlen before feebly holding out an empty bowl and a pitcher of water towards them, as if it were a peace offering. He handed the two pieces of crockery to Leliana as she was closest to him. He waited until they realised that he hadn't moved before clearing his throat.

"Umm... Ayale? Can I have a word?" he asked sheepishly.

Ayale didn't answer him immediately, instead choosing to stare at him blankly for a few seconds. Then she realised that he meant a private conversation, and she looked around to Leliana and Wynne, whom neither offered any advice, leaving the decision to her.

"Okay," she nodded.

"If you two are going to talk, would you talk outside?" Wynne requested. "There's no need for such excitement going on in here."

Both Ayale and Alistair flushed in embarrassment as they both understood that the mage was referring to their heated conversation from the previous night. As the two Wardens looked at each other, they could see that neither had any intention of having another argument any time soon.

"Ma nuvenin, hahren," Ayale agreed.

She stood up, and took to massaging the aches in both her legs for a second before realising that she wouldn't ease the dull throbbing any time soon. So, she ducked under Leliana and swapped positions with the bard so that she was closest to the tent opening.

She looked to the two women who looked back at her with a small amount of concern etched in their expressions. She nodded to both of them before following Alistair out.

* * *

End notes: Okay,sorry for the delay. This chapter has been an absolute bugger to write. I've rewritten parts of it probably about three or four times, starting on something and then deciding I didn't like it and then erasing my work. But! It's finally finished.

And, the lullaby that Ayale sings? I can't believe that no one has managed to figure it out. It's the lyrics to the theme song of Dragon Age. I've no idea how many times I had to listen to the song to get the lyrics right. I'm really surprised, I thought it was so obvious... Obviously not. Shrugs

Elven translations (My words and phrases in _italics _(I'm not counting phrases that contain canon words and phrases)):

Da'len –child(ren)

_Hahra_ –God(s)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallin –Friend (male)

Ma serannas –Thank you

Ma serannas hahren –Thank you elder

Ma serannas lethallan –Thank you friend

Ma nuvenin, hahren –As you wish, elder

Shemlen –Human(s)

_(The next lot of translations are my personal translations, and are only valid for my story)_

Hahra frao ee'ya –The gods watch over you in the day

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Uus noob'eila –They are there when you dream

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Ootu'ras more hooa'uus –They call you to join their games

Ootu'ras more ias –They call you to join so

Morid'ya –Don't be afraid


	9. Unheard Voices

Author's note: This chapter was going to be way too long for my liking (roughly 3000 words is my limit), so I've cut it in half and this half's a tad short.

* * *

Ayale followed Alistair away from the main camp site, where they could talk without being overheard. She walked slowly, as her legs were still aching terribly, and Alistair quickly noticed her pace and waited for her to catch up before continuing at a more manageable speed.

They stopped by a couple of tree stumps, and Ayale happily claimed one for herself. Alistair sat down on the other, facing his fellow Grey Warden. They sat together for a moment, the silence between them not awkward but not entirely comfortable.

"Your friend looks better," Alistair commented conversationally.

"He was covered in a lot of grime," Ayale noted. "He wasn't nearly as bad as I first thought. He looks much better now that I've clean him up a bit. And hahren Wynne's magic has done a lot for him, too. The redness in his skin's practically gone."

"That's good," Alistair smiled. "That's really good. I'm glad to hear it."

"So...What's on your mind, Alistair?" Ayale queried, starting the inevitable conversation off.

"Well..." Alistair squirmed uncomfortably. "About what I said... last night..."

Ayale smiled understandingly. She'd seen his apology face before and could easily recognise the signs. The shemlen would look at his feet, frown slightly and chew his lip, which would subsequently make the tip of his nose twitch and wiggle around on his face, or perhaps he did it on purpose. Overall, it was a very cute expression and one that Ayale couldn't help but smile at.

"We were both out of line last night, me more than you," she assured him. "Let's agree that we're both sorry, and move past it, yeah?"

Alistair smiled in relief and nodded in agreement. He cleared his throat and continued to chew his lip. He focused on the camp, rather than look at Ayale, and tapped his feet to some unknown rhythm.

Ayale knew that she couldn't push him into talking, and that her constantly watching him wasn't going to encourage him to speak. So, she looked away and observed their surroundings.

It was then that she realised that they were near the spot where Tamlen had appeared. She wondered if Alistair had brought her to the location on purpose, but she seriously doubted that he would do something so obvious. Memories of that night flashed past her eyes and she closed them in shame.

"Abelas Alistair," she finally whispered, opening her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Alistair asked confusedly, turning to look at her.

"For the nosebleed?" she offered. "For holding my weapon against you, for shooting at you... for a lot of things."

"Well, you didn't actually shoot at me," he shrugged. "Just the ground by my feet."

"So... you're not mad at me? At all?" she frowned in astonishment.

"Mad? No, I'm not mad," he promised. "A bit wary of you... maybe, but not mad."

Ayale exhaled through her nose in a way that sounded like half-sneeze-half-laugh. She smiled humourlessly as she shook her head slowly. She never looked away from the tree line, even when Alistair leaned back to appear in her peripheral vision.

"Tamlen's my clanmate and lethallin. All I could think of last night was that I had to protect him, since he wasn't in any state to protect himself," she muttered bitterly. "That's the way of the Dalish, through and through."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Alistair noted.

"By protecting one clanmate, I endangered three others... you, Leliana, Wynne," she explained angrily. "I shouldn't have had to raise my weapon against any of my clan, whether that was Tamlen or you three."

"You– you're calling us a clan?" he sputtered in amazement.

Ayale turned to look at him with an expression of surprise. She had believed that her attitude on this subject had been obvious. Perhaps it only seemed obvious to her...

"Sure, why not?" Ayale asked calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "I doubt I'll ever return to the Dalish even if we do survive this Blight, whether by chance or some divine intervention by my hahra or your Maker. I'm too different now to return to them."

"But... a clan?" Alistair iterated.

"What else could I call this group of ours? A band of complete and utter strangers who are all out to stop the Blight and just so happen to place their lives in each other hands on a regular basis?" she offered light-heartedly. "It's a bit long winded."

"I guess it is," Alistair conceded, chuckling slightly. "But still, 'clan' isn't a name that the Dalish throw about on whim. I know that much."

"No... it's not," Ayale confirmed.

Alistair didn't speak for a moment. A look of astonishment was on his face, as if he was having difficulty comprehending what she'd just said. His eyebrows kept jumping up and down as he tried to mull over the small snippet of their conversation.

Ayale was silent as she waited for him to catch up with her. Shemlen could be very slow at understating things sometimes. It was almost endearing.

"I... can't believe you'd consider us as important as Tamlen," Alistair mentioned after the best part of a minute.

"I have been lethallan to Tamlen for many years, it's true," she admitted. "We grew up together and we know pretty much everything about each other. I'd trust him with my life, and I have done so in the past. I don't know all that much about everyone in camp, but I trust each and every one of you as much as I trust him."

"Wow..." Alistair murmured in awe.

Ayale smiled happily. She was glad that she had surprised the templar as she had, and she prayed that she had done at least a little in the ways of repairing the damage that her careless actions had caused.

She felt her momentary bout of happiness break when she saw Alistair's face fall into a suspicious frown.

"So... how long have you know Tamlen, exactly?" he asked curiously.

"Since I was five," Ayale replied instantly, frowning slightly in confusion to his question.

"And, how long is that in years?" he pushed.

"Alistair!" Ayale cried, laughing in disbelief as his two questions suddenly made sense. "Vel'sry nir hahra! Are you asking me how old I am?"

The young man frowned for a moment, thinking her question through and continuing the path that his questions would have led him to. He then blushed red, proving her right, before hiding his face in his hands.

She could feel heat rushing to her own cheeks as she unsuccessfully fought down the urge to laugh in embarrassment.

"So... how old are you?" Alistair asked timidly as he looked up, almost shrinking into himself as he asked.

For the Dalish, it was very much like a death sentence for a man to ask a woman that particular question. By the way Alistair was trying to disappear into his armour, it seemed that the same unspoken threat was present in the shemlen world, too.

However, the look on his face was proof that he really was as naive as she thought he was. He clearly hadn't realised that the end result of his questions would reveal her age. So, she decided to forgive him for this almost grievous offense.

"How about we just leave it as 'more than a few years', hmm?" she offered, her sweet smile not hiding the potentially murderous glint in her eyes.

"Uh... yeah, sure," Alistair agreed numbly.

"Ma serannas," she thanked.

"But... you are in your twenties, right?" he queried.

"Alistair," she called as if in song. "Don't go there."

"Right, sorry," the templar mumbled.

"It's one of the bonuses of being Dalish," Ayale explained. "We're slowly regaining the immortality of our ancestors. We live far longer than shemlen do and our city-bound, flat-eared brethren, and we also slow down as we age. While we're less than ten years old, we age as shemlen do. But, after that, we don't age as quickly. But still, even hahren that are over seventy start showing signs that they're getting old. There are two hahren in... the clan that raised me who have lived for over five generation. That's almost one hundred and thirty years."

"Wow," the shemlen muttered enviously. "But, of course, you're not a hundred."

"Of course not!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I've haven't even got lines on my face yet, and my hair's blonde, not white. By our standards, I'm still a da'len."

"Right right! Sorry," Alistair apologised.

"Well, now that we have gotten over how old I could be," she noted, trying to wave her hand in the air nonchalantly. "What did you want to talk to me about, seriously, no evasions?"

Alistair instantly sobered up and started chewing his lip again. She was slightly surprised that he hadn't bitten through the soft flesh and drawn blood. But, if he'd had enough practise, he probably knew how hard to bite without causing any physical damage.

"I don't have a problem with you doing what you did to save Tamlen, I never did," he started nervously. "But, I can't help but worry about what the consequences are going to be."

"You mean, because of his connection to the darkspawn?" she queried.

She could understand where he was coming from. Tamlen was, despite all of her protests to the contrary, a ghoul. He was also further down the process than she was, and the confrontation the night before had been proof enough that he was susceptible to the archdemon's call, despite his best efforts to resist it. That could prove to be a fatal distraction, especially in a fight against the darkspawn.

"Not his connection..." Alistair shook his head. "I'm worried about yours."

"Mine?" Ayale blinked in surprise and confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know what you did, or how you did it, but you made your voice echo through the taint. I know. I heard you," he explained. "And if I heard you..."

"There's a good chance that the darkspawn did too," she summed up.

"And, the archdemon," Alistair added reluctantly.

Ayale groaned as she buried her face in her hands. She cringed at the thought of what she'd unwittingly done, unable to stop the tears that were swelling up behind her eyes. She had never imagined that what Alistair was suggesting as a possible consequence. But now that he'd mentioned it, she could believe that she hadn't thought of it herself.

However, there was something in the shemlen's tone that told her that he wasn't finished. Grudgingly, she raised her head to look at her fellow Grey Warden.

"What else?" she asked apprehensively.

"When you sang that song to Tamlen in the grove, you spoke out through the taint," Alistair noted. "And... since then... you've haven't stopped."

"I– What?" she almost shrieked in alarm.

"Not all the time," he quickly assured her. "But, when you're under stress, like when you get really angry or when you got hurt this morning... you cry out through the taint. I guess you didn't know."

"No. No, I didn't know," Ayale swore, her voice increasing in pitch as she struggled to fight down her panic.

A muffled cry from camp made Ayale turn around. It was coming from Tamlen, she knew that, and she felt her insides freeze as concern for him overrode her panic for herself.

"I think he's picking up on your calls," Alistair muttered quietly.

"You make me sound like the archdemon," Ayale observed worriedly.

"That's not my intention," Alistair promised. "But... when you spoke through the taint in the grove, I think he latched onto your voice, your presence. He knows who you are, so he might be focusing on you, maybe as some kind of lifeline... I don't know. But, I do know that he's aware of everything you send through the taint, intentionally or not."

Ayale struggled to swallow the lump that was sticking uncomfortably in her throat. When she finally got it to shift, she gasped as she panted for breath. By the hahra, when did the air get so thin?

She noticed that Alistair was kindly, patiently waiting for her to calm down and speak. She sent silent thoughts of gratitude towards him, and then wondered if he'd actually heard her, or Tamlen for that matter. Not that she was going to find out much from Tamlen any time soon.

But of course, if either of the two men heard her, then the darkspawn would have heard her, and the archdemon. She suddenly had to fight down a second wave of panic.

"What should I do?" she whispered fearfully.

"I don't know," Alistair replied honestly. "I've never heard of a Grey Warden ever being able to speak through the taint before. I never would have thought it possible until I heard you."

Ayale didn't reply instantly. Instead, she mulled over what her fellow Grey Warden had said. She thought through everything that Alistair had ever told her about the Order, trying to identify the one difference that would explain how this phenomenon could have occurred.

She instantly dismissed the idea that it could be that she was an elf, as he had mentioned that there had been one elf in the Order. She never did ask what had happened to him, but had a feeling that Alistair wouldn't know, or at the very least, wouldn't want to talk about it.

The thought that she was a woman crept into her head, but she crossed that off her list of possibilities. Alistair had mentioned that there weren't many women in the Order, and she was certain that if it was a gender specific ability he would have mentioned it.

So, putting aside race and gender, she found herself struggling to think of any difference between the two of them. Those were the only two points that she could see. They'd both become Grey Wardens in the exact same way...

And then, realisation hit her, and she groaned in displeasure.

"I think I know what's going on," she stated when Alistair frowned at her in confusion.

"You do?" he asked curiously.

"Apart from race and sex, there's only one difference between you and me," she noted, ignoring the shemlen's slight, immature smirk. "I was already tainted when I Joined the Grey Wardens."

"I don't see how that matters..." Alistair shook his head, frowning as he struggled to connect the dots.

"I was becoming a ghoul. The call is stronger, rawer, than when you're a Grey Warden," she explained, knowing that he wouldn't understand otherwise. "And, you said it yourself: ghouls are more closely connected to the darkspawn."

"You think you took the connection one step further," he assessed.

"It's possible, isn't it?" she shrugged. "But... I guess how I did it doesn't matter all that much. What really matters is what we're going to do about it."

"Huh?" Alistair frowned in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"The darkspawn being able to sense us is one thing, but if they can seek me out like a beacon... That's attention that the clan– this group... doesn't need," she noted.

"So, what can we do about it? You're... You're not thinking of leaving, are you?" he questioned worriedly.

"I don't know... maybe," she admitted quietly. "But, if I'm not, then everyone needs to know about this... development."

"You don't want to keep it quiet?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"This isn't something we can keep to ourselves," she shook her head. "That's a sure recipe for a fatal disaster."

Alistair chewed his lip. The concerned frown on his face was doing nothing to ease Ayale's unease. Obviously he was thinking about the same worry that she was: if they did tell everyone, how many would stay?

Ayale could think of a couple in the group who may not take the news well. And, as much as she didn't want anyone to leave, she knew that she'd rather they left than come to harm later because of this new ability that she had no idea on how to control.

"My legs still hurt," she stated suddenly. "Would you help me back, lethallin?"

Alistair didn't reply, but only looked at her. His expression was unusually guarded, and she couldn't guess as to what he was thinking. However, he didn't say anything, but merely nodded to her.

He stood up and offered her his hand, which she willing took. He helped her to her feet and laid a hand on her back, just encase she needed him for balance or support. In kind, she rested her hand on his nearest shoulder.

In that position, they made their way back to camp.

* * *

Elvish translations (my words in _italics_):

Abelas –Sorrow (also used for apologies)

Da'len –child(ren)

_Hahra_ –God(s)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallin/Lethallan –Friend (male/female)

Ma serannas –Thank you

Shemlen –human(s)

_Vel'sry nir hahra –_Mercy of the Gods!


	10. Bonds Unbroken

"Can I have everyone's attention," Ayale called the moment she and Alistair entered the main campsite. "Morrigan, that means you, too. Leliana, Wynne, could you come out for a moment?"

The group gathered quickly and quietly came to listen to Ayale's announcement. Leliana gave Alistair a disapproving look as she passed him, before looking worriedly at Ayale. Wynne sat on the edge of the tent entrance, probably so she could pay attention to the announcement while keeping an eye on Tamlen's condition. Zevran and Sten had stopped cleaning and sharpening their weapons and were waiting for Ayale to begin. Shale had turned her head to show that she was paying attention, but she did not seem overly bothered.

Ayale waited as Morrigan slowly made her way over to the group from her personal camp. She seemed bored, and the expression couldn't be plainer. She clearly believed that she had more important things to be doing.

"As you all know..." Ayale began unsurely. "We were ambushed by a group of sharlocks last night. And, as you are all probably aware, there was a ghoul with them, who I spared. His name's Tamlen and he's a member of my clan in the Dalish."

Ayale paused, looking around to gauge everyone's reaction. No one looked overly surprised at her words so far, but then again, she hadn't really revealed anything that they didn't already know. Perhaps they didn't know much about Tamlen, but it wasn't a ground-breaking revelation.

"He's currently suffering from fever, and I don't think he can be moved...?" Ayale turned to Wynne, who shook her head in response. "So, we're not moving on until he's able."

Zevran looked more than slightly pleased at that announcement. Obviously he was grateful to the idea of a few days rest, and Leliana seemed to concur with that notion. Sten, however, frowned in disapproval, apparently unhappy at the delay, but he seemed to accept the statement, albeit begrudgingly. Morrigan also seemed unimpressed, but the woman didn't seem to completely understand personal ties. Wynne and Alistair were nodding slightly in understanding, though Alistair had tightened his lips slightly.

"And... there has been a development. I can't go into many of the details, as they're topics for Grey Wardens," Ayale explained. "But, I'm sure everyone knows that Grey Wardens are immune to the taint and, travelling with Alistair and I, you all know that we can sense the darkspawn. Neither of us are quite sure how this happened, but I have... linked myself to the darkspawn."

That got a reaction from the group. Sure enough, everyone looked surprised, even Sten's eyebrows rose by a few millimetres. Leliana and Zevran both looked worried, whether that was for her or for themselves, Ayale couldn't be sure. Morrigan looked intrigued, as if she was running the information through her mind, trying to find an angle that could work for her... and that probably wouldn't be too far off the mark. Wynne looked sad, as if the knowledge had suddenly put a heavy weight on her shoulders. And Shale... she looked indifferent, since the information probably didn't mean that much to her.

"I don't know what effect this will have on our encounters with the darkspawn. It may attract the darkspawn to me," Ayale continued reluctantly. "If... any of you feel that..."

Ayale paused to swallow the lump that had decided to rise up in her throat again. She knew what she had to say, but a part of her didn't want to say it. She didn't want to offer to them an opportunity to leave the group... this clan. She wasn't sure how well she'd take a break-up. But, she argued to herself that the decision had to be theirs, and by offering the chance to leave will make them understand that she was concerned for their safety. She had to say the words... she had to.

"If... any of you feel that... this isn't what you came along for," Ayale explained calmly. "I'll understand if anyone wants to leave."

"The Blight is what matters," Sten stated instantly. "A true warrior does not run from a fight that proves difficult. I will not run, Kadan."

Ayale fought the urge to smile. She almost expected such a response from the qunari, and she was glad that he hadn't had to think about his decision. She nodded gratefully to him, which he returned to her subtly.

"The Maker guided my footsteps to you," Leliana noted. "He would not have done so if I were not to follow you where you go, regardless of the dangers. I'm staying."

"I must admit," Zevran chuckled, though Ayale could hear a hint of unease beneath the joviality. "I'm not sure I like the idea of more darkspawn gracing us with their foul stench. But, I would be a fool to leave. I pledged my services to you, and I think it would be ruin my reputation to back out now, no?"

Leliana rolled her eyes at Zevran's poor attempt at humour, but Ayale found that she had to fight the urge to smile again. It was certainly a weight off her mind, to know that the two rogues wouldn't be leaving.

"It thinks that I will leave, because it brings more darkspawn to it?" Shale asked incredulously. "I will remain unharmed by such things, so I see no reason why I should leave. After all, there is little else I have in ways of a purpose."

"I told you before, I will not leave this unfinished. And, if the darkspawn are going to come at you with more force," Wynne mused. "Then, you will need my skills more than ever. "

Ayale nodded gratefully to the mage. She knew that Wynne's magic was not something to be undervalued. After all, she'd managed to preserve Tamlen's life, maybe even bring him back from the edge of death itself. She wasn't sure if she could ever repay the debt she felt towards the older woman.

"I'm staying," Alistair stated plainly.

Then, all eyes turned to Morrigan. It seemed unfair to Ayale for everyone to put the apostate into the spotlight like they were, but the woman seemed unfazed by their stares.

"T'would seem that everyone is content to play the role of the fool," the apostate noted. "To blindly accept such a revelation without at least considering what effects might appear later."

Ayale nodded her head solemnly. She wasn't particularly surprised that Morrigan would be leaving. Survival of the fittest was the woman's motto, and it seemed that she wasn't going to deviate from that. And she was right, to an extent. Only a fool would stay on the path they were walking after learning of the dangers... at least, without thinking their actions through first.

"So... T'would be wise that I remain to ensure that someone considers them, would it not?" Morrigan asked rhetorically.

Ayale blinked in surprise. She hadn't been expecting the apostate to stay, not without serious words of a pleading manner beforehand. To have her decide to remain with the group, by her own choice no less... Ayale was going to have to discuss the woman's motives. But, that could wait for a later date.

She finally let the smile, which had been tugging at her lips, break across her face. She sighed in relief, letting out a breath she hadn't realised that she'd held. She was certain that she could never truly explain how glad she was that everyone was accepting this, and staying with the clan.

"Ma serannas," she whispered, hardly able to raise her voice any louder.

She felt something falling down her cheek. Raising her hand in surprise, she found herself wiping away an escaped tear. She smiled sheepishly to everyone, feeling slightly embarrassed to be crying in front of them all. She could feel her cheeks heat up as she blushed slightly.

"Well, everyone had better get comfortable," she advised, clearing her throat so she could speak normally. "We're going to be resting here for a bit."

At her words, everyone started moving away, settling themselves into the campsite.

Sten took out his sharpening stone and started tending to Asala. He took slow, deliberate strokes down the blade edges, perfecting every movement. Of course, he could have just been taking his time so he wouldn't find himself without a task and get bored.

Zevran wasn't so worried about his Crow's daggers. Instead, he brought out a few unused flasks and several questionable ingredients as he started making new poisons and flask bombs. He was quite meticulous in everything he did, measuring out each and every ingredient with an unprecedented amount of attention, the degree in which he heated the mixtures, and how everything reacted in the flask.

Leliana disappeared into her tent for a moment before re-emerging with her lyre in hand. The bard sat down, made herself comfortable on a mat, and started playing a tune that Ayale recognised instantly. The bard was trying to play the Dalish lullaby, quite well in the she-elf's opinion, though there were a few notes that were out of key.

Morrigan and Shale left to return to their own spots in camp, away from everyone else. Ayale had no idea what Morrigan was going to do, since the apostate had the uncanny ability to hide everything in her private camp before Ayale was within thirty feet. Shale... just seemed to stand still and stare as everyone in camp went about their businesses.

"Well, since you've finished with your announcement: I want you to have something to eat," Wynne instructed, before looking over to the bard. "Leliana, would you make sure that she has something to eat."

"I'm not hungry. I'll eat something later," Ayale assured. "I just want to keep watch on Tamlen."

"Ayale," the mage sighed in exasperation.

"Please, hahren," she pleaded. "I... I wasn't there for him last time. I don't want to repeat that mistake."

Wynne looked at Ayale, never breaking eye contact. It seemed like an eternity before the older woman's features softened in understanding. Finally, the mage blinked and nodded her head, getting up and moving away from the tent and out of Ayale's way.

"Ma serannas," Ayale nodded, praying that her gratitude was showing.

Then, without another word, she ducked into the tent. She waited for a moment while her eyes adjusted to the subdued light within the interior of the tent before moving further. She sat by Tamlen and took a moment to look at him.

He certainly looked better, and she could see that fact better in the gentle light that diffused through the tent. His skin had lost all the red discolouration that the taint had brought on, and she could see his vallaslin clearly, which she was proud to note. He had dark taint marks beneath his eyes, much like her, though his were sufficiently darker than hers, which she attributed to him spender a longer time as a ghoul than her.

She lifted her hand and rested it lightly on his brow, feeling the excessive heat radiate off him. She smiled slightly as he twitched at her touch, turning his head towards her slightly. She reached over to the bowl and fished out the cloth, wringing it of unnecessary water before laying it on her clanmate's forehead.

She took his hand into hers again, squeezing it gently. She didn't have a chance to speak before he began to squeeze her hand in return. Her smile widened as she watched over him. She breathed in slowly, calmly, as she reached a decision in her mind.

She was determined not to fail him. Never again.

* * *

Leliana joined Ayale in the tent sometime after midday. She brought in a cold platter of food; bread, fruit, and cheese. Seeing the orange-yellow block, the she-elf cracked a conniving smirk. She side-glanced the bard.

"Does Alistair know you've taken the cheese?" Ayale queried.

"I don't think so," Leliana answered, giggling deviously. "This is his portion, too."

"When he comes looking for it, I'll tell him it was you," Ayale stated factually.

"Oh, of all the–!" Leliana sputtered, glaring at the giggling elf.

Ayale's face was creased as she struggled to prevent herself from falling into hysterics, her entire body shaking from the exertion of not laughing at her friend's outraged expression. She was sure that she was turning red in the face since she had stopped breathing several minutes ago. Mirth sparkled in her eyes, tears pricking the edges and threatening to flow. Eventually, she had to look away so she could calm down.

"You know, you should eat something," Leliana pressed after Ayale had turned back towards her.

"I'm not hungry," Ayale shook her head.

"I've seen you and Alistair," Leliana stated. "You two eat more than most of us put together. And, you haven't eaten for a day, at least. A normal person would be hungry after that much time, never mind a Grey Warden."

Ayale didn't reply. She was hungry, in truth, more than hungry. The same could be about her and the fact that she could hardly keep her eyes open. But, she had so far been using pure willpower to override those two facts... willpower that constant questions were slowly grating down.

"I can survive one day without food, Leliana," she noted, she sadly noticed a sour tone in her voice.

"Ayale, why are you doing this to yourself?" Leliana asked concernedly.

"I just want to watch over Tamlen," she explained. "I'm the only one in the whole camp who he knows. If he wakes up and finds some random shemlen watching him, he'll freak out."

"I guess I can understand that," the bard conceded reluctantly. "But, you won't let yourself eat, or sleep. I'm not the only one who's worried."

Ayale closed her eyes and cursed to herself. She should have realised that Alistair would be able to know that something was wrong. It would make sense that if she was hungry or tired, she'd transmit those feelings through the taint. Of all the idiotic things she'd done... by the hahra, was she really so foolish?

"I..." she began uncertainly. "I just don't want to let Tamlen down again."

"What do you mean, let him down?" Leliana echoed confusedly.

"I... It's a really bad memory, Leliana," Ayale confessed, shifting uncomfortably. "I'd rather not share."

Beside them, Tamlen stirred slightly, moving restlessly. He groaned quietly until Ayale took the cloth off his forehead and wetted it in the cool water before returning it to its previous position on his brow.

"Ayale... whatever it is, you're hurting yourself over it," the bard noted concernedly. "You listened to all my problems. Please, let me show you the same courtesy."

"Leliana..." the she-elf sighed. "You would think less of me."

"No I wouldn't," Leliana assured. "Because I know who you are, and I could never think less of you."

"Fine... fine," Ayale relented. "The reason that he's lying there, sick with blight fever... It's all because I failed him."

Leliana frowned, not understanding her friend's statement. But she could obviously tell that was going to be a long story of an explanation, and so she settled herself down into a more comfortable position. Once settled, she waited for Ayale to continue.

"Tamlen and I were investigating something, some rumour we'd heard off three shemlen," Ayale recounted. "They'd come across a carving, with written Elvish on it. We know so little of our past, Tamlen suggested that we go and check it out. I agreed, and we went to the cave that the shemlen had spoken of. In there we found a few relics, which Keeper Marethari would have loved to look at. But, a monster was in there as well."

"A monster?" Leliana asked incredulously.

"I think it had been a bear... once," she continued. "But, it was twisted into something that was pure evil. It didn't care for a hunt, only to kill. What kind of shaal kills simply for the act of killing, to be in constant bloodlust?"

Ayale shuddered at the memory. The appearance of the creature was one that she was certain she would never get out of her memory, never erase from beneath her eyelids. The patched fur, the bony growths, the blood-red eyes... nothing could ever terrify her as badly as that had.

"It was guarding some room, a simple room in appearance," she remembered. "All that was in it was a mirror."

"A mirror?" Leliana queried curiously.

"I have no idea how long it had been there, but it was perfect," Ayale reminisced. "There wasn't a mark on it, or a speck of dust. Tamlen was curious about it, and he wanted to take a closer look. And then... he saw it."

"Saw what?" Leliana urged, a hint of apprehension in her voice.

"I don't know, to be honest," Ayale admitted. "He said there was something inside the mirror. But, I couldn't see anything, and it spooked me. I was worried about it, so I told him not to touch it, to leave it alone."

"He didn't listen?" Leliana guessed.

"No, he didn't," Ayale shook her head. "He touched the mirror, and he... spoke of things, strange things. He said he could see images, that the mirror was showing them to him. A city underground... and a darkness."

Ayale bit her lip as the memory played across her eyes, as crystal clear as if she was living the whole thing again. She closed her eyes for a moment, not caring that one tear fell down her cheek. When she opened her eyes again, she looked to the very worried expression of Leliana.

"He suddenly started panicking," she explained. "He said that something had seen him. He called out to me, asked me for help, said he couldn't look away. I didn't do anything. I just stood there and I did nothing."

"Ayale?" Leliana called softly, as if she was worried of spooking the she-elf.

"The next thing I know, there's a blinding white light and I wake up two days later," Ayale concluded. "I'd been found, sick with fever, outside the cave by a passing shemlen, a Grey Warden no less. He carried me back to my clan's camp."

"So, what happened to Tamlen?" Leliana asked, glancing at the sleeping figure.

"When I came round, no one had seen or heard anything from Tamlen," Ayale shook her head. "And, I never asked Duncan whether he'd found me stumbling out on me own, or whether Tamlen had carried me out before disappearing."

"Would that be important?" Leliana asked, her tone cautious.

"To me, yes," Ayale nodded. "If I was able to get out of there on my own, that would mean that I left Tamlen alone in that room with the mirror. But, if he carried me out... surely I would still have had the strength, or at least the sense, to not let go of him, to not let him disappear into the forest."

"If you were that sick," Leliana mused. "You probably wouldn't have known what was happening."

"But then, neither would Tamlen. He'd touched the damn thing after all, so he'd probably gotten a bigger hit," Ayale noted. "So, with that argument... I left him down there."

"You had no way of knowing that any of this was going to happen," the bard assured. "It doesn't prove that this is your fault."

"Then whose fault is it?" the elf queried. "If it wasn't my fault, then would it be Tamlen's fault, for touching it in the first place? Would it be Marethari's fault, for giving up on him? Maybe Duncan's to blame, for saying that I'd never find him? Or, what about those shemlen, who went into that hahra forsaken cave in the first place? Or, even better... how about the Tevinter magisters, who made the mirror?"

Leliana blinked, opening and closing her mouth helplessly as she tried to say something. She then froze as Ayale smiled sadly at her, a weary resignation in her eyes.

"Even if I'm not the only one who was at fault, I'm still to blame," Ayale stated. "Out of everyone, I was the one who could have done something, and I did nothing."

"There was nothing you could have done," Leliana assured.

"Even if I was too sick to do anything... but before that, I could have pulled him away," the elf insisted. "But I didn't. Instead, I just stood there and watched. And, because of me, he disappeared, got sick..."

"And because of you, he's now lying in this tent, getting the best treatment anyone could ever hope for," Leliana observed. "Because of you, he isn't lying dead in the glade."

"But, was that for the best?" Ayale asked rhetorically. "He wanted me to kill him, and I didn't. By giving him the... 'cure', did I really make his life any easier, any better? Or did I just do it to make myself feel better, to give myself the opportunity that I didn't have when he vanished?"

"What opportunity?" the bard queried curiously.

"I never got the chance to apologise to him, for not pulling him away, for abandoning him, for letting him take the blame for my mistakes," Ayale explained.

With that, she reached out and picked up her clanmate's hand. She held his hand carefully, raising it up so she could kiss his knuckles. With her other hand, she tenderly stroked his head, ignoring the fact that she should have been stroking his hair, which would have been there if events hadn't played out as they had.

"Abelas Tamlen," she whispered, as if worried that she might wake him if she spoke any louder. "I never meant for this to happen. I'm sorry that I didn't pull you away from that thing. I'm sorry that I left you in that hahra forsaken temple. Abelas lethallin. I am... so sorry."

She inhaled deeply as she felt a hand rub her back comfortingly, making small circles across her shoulder blades. Turning her head, she saw that the hand belonged to Leliana, who was looking sympathetically towards her. The bard smiled reassuringly at her, and she felt her lips form a smile in return.

"I told you I wouldn't think any less of you," Leliana noted, a slight not of pride in her tone.

"You right, you did tell me that," Ayale agreed. "Ma serannas lethallan."

The two of them smiled at each other and sat quietly together. They watched over Tamlen's still figure, the bard occasionally leaving to change the water for a fresh, cool replacement. They stayed in a general, companionable silence.

Finally, night began to fall, and Leliana left the tent to grab a blanket for Ayale.

"Daln ee'yo, Leliana," Ayale called quietly as the bard left for her own tent.

"Good night, Ayale," Leliana called back. "Sleep well."

Though she doubted it, Ayale smiled. Then, after looking over Tamlen one more time, she laid down on the edge of the sleeping mat. She then drew the blanket over herself and let herself drift into the realm of spirits and dreams.

* * *

Elvish translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

Abelas –Sorrow (also used as an apology)

Abelas lethallin –I'm sorry friend (male)

_Daln ee'yo_ –good night

_Hahra_ –God(s)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallin/Lethallan –Friend (male/female)

Ma serannas –thank you

Ma serannas lethallan –Thank you friend (female)

Shemlen –Human


	11. Breaking free

Author's note: New POV! Just so you know. It shouldn't be too hard to guess ^_^. Enjoy!

* * *

The song was so loud in his ears, echoing in its unrelenting way through his head. He'd stopped trying to block it out long ago, trying only left him drained, and the song was always louder once he gave up, as if to spite him. He could hardly remember a time when the song hadn't been there, forcing itself into his every thought, into every fibre of his being. The idea of silence was almost foreign to him, like it was a half forgotten memory, or a half remembered dream, or maybe the notion was from somewhere in between.

And the pain… the feeling was so intense, he could almost scream from it. It was like he was going through the ceremony to receive his vallaslin again, only this time it was over his entire body. But, the pride of being Dalish, which had been instilled in him ever since he had been da'len, kept him from crying out.

Dalish… he could hardly remember what that meant. The pain and the song held most of his mind nowadays, and he was beginning to forget that he had ever been without the two. But, something from his past was always there, keeping him grounded amidst everything.

He couldn't always identify it, sometimes it was only fragments of the whole that would suddenly flare up to the forefront of his thoughts, demanding that he pay attention to them. Sometimes it was a smile, so full of laughter and carefree and spoke of so many things that he had hardly space in his mind to understand any of it. Other times, it was a pair of bright green eyes, with emotions flickering constantly across them, but always looking at him so tenderly.

On more than a few occasions a voice, separate and distinct from the song, would resound briefly in his ears and would skirt around in the back of his mind, as if playing a game that he could no longer remember. Whenever that happened, he would try to listen to it, try to hear the words that the voice was speaking. He could tell that it was the same voice every time, and he knew that the voice belonged to a woman.

In fact, he knew that everything, every fragment that would suddenly make itself known to him, had some connection to that one person, that woman. He thought often of her, of that one. He would try so hard to remember her name, or any detail about her that would explain to him who she was, and why she was so important to him.

Because, she was important to him, she had to be. He could think of no other explanation as to why she would continuously appear amidst the broken tangents of his thoughts. She would be the only thing that stayed in focus in his mind, for as long as she was there.

If only he could remember who she was… But, then again, he could hardly remember who he was anymore, so he had little hope of knowing her.

He opened his eyes and stared at the blackened soil and hard rock that he stood upon. He always stared at it, fearing to look up and see what lay around him. It wasn't as if he needed to find out, however, since he already knew what he would see.

Around him was a twisted landscape, cold and unforgiving, with the others surrounding him. They would all be singing the song, trying to urge him to sing too. He always shied away from the urge, from their calling, it was all he could do really, and would instead take to staring at his feet and the ground. They didn't bother him if he did that, so he tended to keep his attention firmly on what was beneath him, often counting the individual grains that he could see.

~:_Hahra frao ee'ya:~  
~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~_

He started when he heard those words, almost raising his head in surprise. They were part of a song that he recognised, but it wasn't part of the song that the others sang. The words were from somewhere else, some far away place that he once knew of. And as always, that one… that woman was singing it, in that soft, tender tone.

_~:Uus noob'eila:~  
~:Hahra frao ee'yo:~_

He could feel the words calling to him. It was like the song, but at the same time, the pull was completely different. It wasn't a compulsion that beat down upon him, driving further into his mind and demanding obedience, but a request that had been laid out before him, with no insistence for him to submit. It caused a desire to swell up from within his whole body. It was like a reaction that he had spent his whole life feeling.

_~:Ootu'ras more hooa'uus:~  
~:Ootu'ras more ias:~  
~:Morid'ya_:~

Hesitantly, he raised his head. He furtively glanced at the others, wondering if they had noticed either the woman singing or him moving. When he saw that none were interested, he bolstered his courage and straightened up.

He turned around slowly, in case his movement brought the interest of the others. Once he was facing the opposite direction to the others, he noticed that he could heart he words slightly clearer. Also, the song was less oppressive now that he was facing away.

A germ of excitement wriggled in his gut and chest, for such a small action had brought such a dramatic change. It made him wonder what would happen if he started to move away from the others, and towards the woman and her own, private song. He wondered if her song would get louder, while the song that the others sang would get softer.

Brazenly, he took a step forwards in the direction he was facing. There was no real difference, the song was still as loud, even if it was less controlling, and the woman's song was still as soft as it had been. Deciding that one step wasn't enough, he took another… and then another.

An anger filled roar coming from somewhere behind him made him jump in surprise and cringe in fear. He knew what had made that sound, he knew it very well.

It was what had brought him into this in the first place. He had been looking, for what he couldn't remember, but he had seen it in the darkness. As he had been looking at it, it had felt his eyes on it, it had turned to him, and it had looked back at him. At the time, he had been terrified of it. He hadn't been able to tear his gaze away from it, and he had called out for help.

Help… who had he asked? The fragmented images came back to him for a moment, flashing before his eyes for a second. The caring smile, the bright green eyes, a strand of sunny blonde hair that wouldn't stay behind a pointed ear, and the voice that was calling sweetly to him… all from the same person, the same woman. Had she been the one who he'd asked for help? Had she helped him?

It roared angrily again, demanding that he turn to it, that he get back in line. It was possessive, not wanting to let him go. It didn't want him investigating the woman's voice, or following the song that she sang.

However, no matter how much it roared, no matter how much it demanded, he felt no desire to obey it. It was like it could no longer reach inside his head, make him think things it wanted him to think, or do things it wanted him to do.

By turning round and walking away, he'd made some kind of barrier that it couldn't pass. The song was no longer echoing inside his mind, it simply hovered about his ears. He also noticed that the pain, while not gone, had receded to nothing more than a dull ache. He'd felt worse after an intense hunt.

That was right! He'd hunted. He was a hunter, a Dalish hunter. He was one of the last of the elvhenan, not some unknown creature that cowered amongst these … these things! They were horrific and hideous, and he was not one of them. He was of a race that demanded respect, from others and from themselves.

Puffing his chest with courage and pride at this unexpected revelation, he defiantly refused to look at it, and instead started walking away from it, ignoring its constant calls to him. Almost giddy with euphoria at this new-found freedom, he started running. All the while, its calls had less and less impact on him, to the point where he couldn't care if it called to him or not.

The other song, the woman's song, was what mattered. It wasn't constantly changing like the other one was, more like a string of a few lines that were constantly repeated. He recognised the tune, and understood the words, Elvish words.

And the woman… he recognised her voice now. He did know her, she was important. All he had to do now was find her.

He slowed to a halt and realised that he had no idea where he should look for her. The landscape hadn't changed. It was still craggy rock faces, uneven ground and stormy skies. Nothing had changed, and now he was all alone.

A short bark made him flinch in surprise. He turned around towards the sound, fearful of what he'd just stumbled across. He found himself staring at a bear, which was watching him carefully, calculatingly. It was huge, probably as tall as him, and that was it while on its hunches. Its coat was a golden brown that somehow glistened in the dim, murky light.

He didn't move, watching the bear as it watched him. He knew that moving would probably agitate the bear, and he had no weapons with which to defend himself if it chose to get territorial with him. He knew that he could probably scare it away by yelling, but he didn't.

A part of him was telling him not to be afraid of the bear, instead, to be comforted by the sight. He thought about why he should be glad to see such a monstrously large bear, but he couldn't find an explanation.

He suddenly got the feeling that the bear wasn't actually looking at him, but behind him. Curious, as he was confident that the bear wasn't going to attack him, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the bleak surroundings until he found himself staring at an exceptionally dark shadow between two rocks.

He glanced back at the bear, which hadn't moved, before turning fully to the shadow. He approached it slowly, cautiously. He couldn't remember the details clearly, but he was certain that something bad had happened last time he'd ventured into shadows.

Upon inspection, he discovered the shadow to be an entrance to a cave, or perhaps a more accurate description would be a tiny hole that happened to go into a tunnel. The way looked long, dark and very narrow. He baulked at the sight, unwilling to even consider going through. However, when he turned away from the cave, he saw the bear, and it was watching him.

He looked back to the cave. A part of him was protesting, rather loudly, at the idea of going through, while another part was arguing that he was Dalish, and should not fear entering the cave tunnel. He sucked in a breath and, feeling his stomach clench in apprehension, clambered through the tiny hole.

The actual cave was wider than he had thought. He could easily stretch out his arms to either side, and would only just touch the walls. It was also higher than he'd expected, with at least a foot of space between the top of his head and the ceiling. He was also glad to notice that it wasn't pitch black, either. And, what made this fact even better was that the light in the tunnel wasn't coming from the hole he'd just crawled through, but from somewhere in front of him.

Feeling extremely relieved that he wasn't going to have to crawl through the cave, or have to squeeze through any tight areas, whilst in the dark, he pressed on. The ground was soft beneath his feet, covered in what looked like centuries of dust and soil. He walked on for a time, following the cave as it twisted and turned.

Finally he saw a bright light shining on the wall as the passage turned a sharp bend. He peered around the corner cautiously, as the light was brighter than anything he could remember seeing for a long time. He had to shield his eyes for a moment until he grew accustomed to the intensity.

Before him, the cave tunnel had ended abruptly, and the path ahead appeared to be blocked. Large branches that were full of young, fresh leaves hung over the exit of the cave and had entwined within one another. Dapple light shone through the leaves, which rustled slightly in a light breeze that he could not feel.

Curious, he approached the natural barrier. Standing so close, he could feel the tendrils of the breeze that stirred the leaves, and he could smell earthy scents that the wind carried. It felt so right for him, to smell such scents, to see scattered light through rustling leaves and swaying branches.

"Hahra frao ee'ya. Hahra frao ee'yo," a woman's voice sang clearly from the other side of the branches. "Uus noob'eila. Hahra frao ee'yo."

He felt his heart suddenly lurch into his throat. He knew that voice, better than he knew his own. It was her. The woman he had remembered in fragments while he had been in the thrall of those… creatures and their master. She was the reason he was standing he where was.

"Ootu'ras more hooa'uus," she sang, oblivious to his hidden presence. "Ootu'ras more ias, morid'ya."

He breathed in deeply. He had heard her voice and remembered parts of her for so long, the idea of meeting her was almost nerve-wracking. He wondered if she would look the same –how long had it been since he'd last seen her?– and if he would recognise her, or more to the point, would she recognise him?

He slowly reached out to the branches and carefully pushed them away. Light poured in through the space he'd made. It was bright, but it wasn't harsh, and he could feel the warmth of it on his outstretched hand and arm. And then, after a moment's pause, he stepped through.

He found himself walking into a glade that was probably half a mile wide in diameter. Around him, old trees had grown so wide it would have taken several people to link hands before they could encompass the trunk. Also, they rose so high as if to touch the sky itself, leaving the glade free of low hanging branches and giving the place a strange sense of timelessness. Above him, the sky was hidden behind a thousand shades of green, quietly rustling in the breeze.

Five of the great trees were in the centre of the glade, elliptically ringed around a pool of water. The pool itself did not pass outside the impression of an ellipse that the trees had created, but was at least thirty feet at its widest. Its surface was perfectly still, completely undisturbed by the gentle breeze that floated through the clearing.

Movement by his side made him look to his left. He felt his heart jump in surprise as the great bear, which had shown him the way, lumbered slowly past him. It inclined it head towards him slightly before picking up speed and running into the glade.

He saw it run past a herd of deer, which remained undisturbed by the hulking creature. The lead deer raised its head to look up at him, observing him, scrutinising him for a moment, before it seemed apparently satisfied and returned to grazing. Without the lead deer making a fuss over his presence, the rest of the herd paid him little to no attention, confident in their leader's judgement of him.

A screech from somewhere above his head made him look up. A lone bird circled around in the lofty heights of the glade. It manoeuvred through the lowest branches effortlessly, and swooped gracefully in wide arcs about the five central trees. Suddenly, it twisted in mid-air and dove towards the ground. It descended, faster and faster, showing no signs of pulling itself up from its dive.

Then, as abruptly as the dive had started, it was over. The bird glided across the surface of the pool before reaching out its talons. A quiet splash and a ripple later, the bird was once again taking to the branches. Whether it had anything in its talons, he didn't know.

He left the bird to its catch –if it had one– and decided to look about the glade again. It was then that he noticed a single deer lying down in the grass by the pool. It had a pure white coat and intricately shaped antlers. Halla, he remembered, the deer was called a halla. He remembered that they were the Dalish's most revered creature, the creature of one of their goddesses.

The woman's face flashed before his eyes again. Her eyes weren't very strong in his mind, neither were her lips, so often pulled into a smile. It was her face in general that he was thinking of, the markings that defined her, her vallaslin. She honoured that goddess, if only he could remember the name.

The halla looked over to him before lowering its head to something that was lying beside it. It wasn't another halla, but something of brown and pale cream... and sunny blonde.

He felt his breath catch as the song, which had been sung quietly whilst he had been looking around, stopped mid-line. The creature next to the halla suddenly sat up, its attention completely on him.

No... not it... her.

She stood up and started walking up slowly to him. As she came closer, he could see the design on her leather armour, the red marks on her leg from some injury she'd received, the odd strands of blonde hair that would fall in front of her eyes. Every single detail, every fragment of his memories, everything was right. Not a single piece of her was unexpected, unknown.

She stopped in front of him, standing a few feet away. She looked at him with those bright green eyes of hers, still as tender as he remembered. She smiled at him, relieved and grateful. He was surprised to notice that her smile was different, if only slightly. It wasn't strained, but it had lost its carefree nature.

She didn't seem to notice, however, and laughed quietly.

"Hahra ashamel," she whispered. "It's you. You're free."

He wasn't sure what she meant. Did she mean that he was free from those hideous things and their master and their captivating song? Now that she was no longer singing, he could hear it again, even as far away from them as the of them were.

He opened his mouth to speak, but froze when her face fell in shock and worry. She reached out with a hand and pressed two fingers on his lips, as he closed his mouth. When he frowned in confusion, she merely shook her head.

"We don't both need to speak," she explained in a soft tone. "They're not happy with me speaking, and you doing it, too, will really upset them."

While she was being vague, he knew exactly what she was talking about. She was talking about the others, of that he was certain. But, he couldn't understand why she was worried about them –a Dalish hunter fears nothing, after all. But, he then remembered how angry the master of those creatures had been when he'd turned around, defied his dominance... maybe it wasn't a good idea to goad that one.

He nodded in understanding, and the smile returned to her face. She moved her fingers from his lips and, stepping forward by one, she cupped his chin with her hand, her fingers running up his jaw. She gently rubbed his cheek with her thumb, her eyes watching his every move, absorbing every detail.

"When you're ready," she murmured. "Wake up, Tamlen."

Tamlen... that was him! That was his name! But, what did she mean, wake up? He was awake, wasn't he?

He could feel her hand gently caressing his jaw and cheek, and he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember her ever doing that before, as it wasn't something the Dalish generally did. But, he couldn't deny that the feeling was pleasant. It felt like something he'd wanted to feel for so long.

"Wake up, Tamlen," she repeated.

Her voice was gentle, and the words were said so affectionately. She hadn't ordered him to do anything, it was more like a suggestion, or a request. And, while it made no sense to him, he was happy to oblige, or at least try to.

As he tried to open his eyes, they suddenly felt heavy. As he struggled to open them, he noticed that his whole body felt weary, heavy. He could no longer feel her hand on his face, and there was something covering his body.

Panicking slightly, he forced his eyes to open. When his vision finally started to focus, he saw a dirty yellow material hanging above his head, with dim light filtering through. A wooden pole seemed to be holding the material up, which meant little to him apart from one obvious and rather frightening fact.

He was no longer in the glade, and he had no idea where he was.

* * *

Elven translations (My words and phrases in _italics_):

_Hahra ashamel_ –Gods be praised

Elvhenan –Elvish word for themselves

Vallaslin –blood writing

_(The next lot of translations are my personal translations, and are only valid for my story)_

Hahra frao ee'ya –The gods watch over you in the day

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Uus noob'eila –They are there when you dream

Hahra frao ee'yo –The gods watch over you in the night

Ootu'ras more hooa'uus –They call you to join their games

Ootu'ras more ias –They call you to join so

Morid'ya –Don't be afraid


	12. Awaking to the Nightmare

Tamlen blinked as he stared up at the material above his head. He was struggling to breathe normally as he fought the panic that was rising up in his chest. He was almost scared to yell out, unsure if it was safe, whether it would bring an ally, or those monsters or something equally as nasty, like a shem.

Shemlen… he was momentarily surprised when the word came so easily to his mind, and the fact that he knew its meaning was also unexpected. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought much about anything, the song and the pain had almost had him completely subservient.

He shuddered at the thought.

It then occurred to him that he couldn't hear the song and nor could he feel any pain, except the twisting in his gut that told him that he hadn't eaten for a few days. His body felt heavy, but it was more the sluggish feeling of someone who'd just woken up.

If that was the case, had it all been a dream, some heinous nightmare that had ensnared him for a while? It had all felt so intense, so real. Had it really been all over one night?

No, that couldn't be true, he knew it. His body felt heavy from sleep, but his muscles felt weak and he could sense the tremors that ran across his skin, making him twitch slightly. These were all symptoms of fever, and a really bad one by his guess. So, a fevered nightmare… that would explain a lot.

Now much calmer than he had been when he first woke, Tamlen breathed in deeply and exhaled calmly. He relaxed, feeling safe in the knowledge that, wherever he was, someone had been taking care of him. That meant that whoever it was, they didn't intend to hurt him, and they may help him get back to the clan.

Get back to the clan? Where had that come from? Why would he even be away? He would never leave the clan, not for anything! Well… except perhaps–

A quiet moan, coming from the left of him, stopped his thoughts. He held his breath as he waited for something else, another sound, perhaps, or some movement. But there was nothing, he was almost wondering if he had imagined the sound in the first place.

He shifted his eyes to the left, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. But, he only saw more material, which confirmed the fact that he was in a tent of some sort. Turning his head slightly to try and find something other than yellow cloth, his eyes finally fell on a lump beside him.

It was her: the woman who he'd dreamed about. Seeing her face brought two words instantly to the forefront of his mind, and he knew both of them. One was her name, Ayale, and the other was what he'd always call her, lethallan. He vaguely recalled that he once used a nickname for her, Aya, but he then remember that she hated it, and promptly tucked the memory into the back of his mind.

She was still dressed in leather armour, which was currently showing off her sleeping figure, curled up under a blanket that was only covering her abdomen and legs. She was completely relaxed, peaceful in sleep, and he could see her chest move slowly and rhythmically as she breathed. She was using one of her arms as a pillow for her head, and the other was tucked in close to her body. The hand of her unused arm was near her face, closed into a loose fist.

Seeing her like that made him want to smile. He could remember the last time something like this had happened, where he had gotten sick and she had been tending to him. She had worked herself so hard and had fallen asleep. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, knowing that Keeper Marethari would scold her so badly for falling asleep.

It was then that he noticed that something was different. Something was different about her, about her face. He frowned as he tried to figure out what had changed, finding himself irritated that he hadn't been able to work it out immediately.

She stirred suddenly, scrunching her eyes slightly as she struggled against waking. She buried her face into her arm in an attempt to fall back into the spirit realm. Reluctantly, she drowsily opened her eyes, her vision obviously unfocused as she stared unseeingly ahead of her. Then she scrunched her eyes closed again, raising her hand up to rub away the tiredness from her face.

It was then that he saw it. Dark marks were on her face, hiding beneath her vallaslin. They covered her eyes and ran down her cheeks, he was astonished that hadn't noticed such a hideous thing marring her face earlier. They made her look ill, or something. Had someone struck her? Were they there because she'd been taking care of him? Had he caused them to appear?

She lowered her hand and opened her eyes again. She stared at him groggily for a moment, before blinking in surprise and forcing herself to focus. She moved her arms so that she could push herself up into a sitting position, which only half-worked because the arm she'd been laying on was apparently numb. But, she quickly assumed her usual cross-legged position. The blanket covering her had fallen from her lay across her legs and the sleeping mat.

She spent a moment trying to massage life back into her arm, before giving up and returning her attention to him. The way she was looking at him, it was as if she hadn't seen him for months.

But that couldn't be true, he'd only been sick for a couple of days... right?

* * *

Ayale blinked reluctantly, as if closing her eyes for a fraction of a second would ruin the scene before her. Her eyes darted across her clanmate, taking in as much as she could.

He was still frighteningly thin, which she supposed was to be expected from what little he'd lived off for the past three months. His face was gaunt, with stark taint marks running down his cheeks, and his arms had lost most of their muscular physique. But, on the plus, his skin was back to its original colour, and his eyes were blue again.

Overall, he looked like Tamlen, albeit a grossly undernourished Tamlen, but Tamlen none the less. He was her clanmate once again.

He was looking confusedly at her, as if he couldn't understand why she acting so strangely. But, then again, maybe he couldn't. Perhaps he didn't remember, oh... how she wished he couldn't remember. She wanted to spare him the pain that such memories would undoubtedly bring.

She watched him as he closed his eyes for a moment as he struggled to sit up. Worried, she laid a hand on his chest. She knew it wouldn't have kept him down in any normal circumstances, but she could hardly call this normal.

He opened his eyes in surprise and frowned in confusion when she shook her head at him.

"You've been through a lot," she explained in a hushed tone. "You need to rest."

Tamlen didn't answer her for a moment, taking to staring at her. When his eyes started to flicker in their focus point, she could tell that he was finally running what she'd said through his head.

"What… happened lethallin?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, I suppose that depends," she mused. "How much do you remember?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, looking away from her to stare blankly at the tent roof. "Everything's… a blur. I'm not sure what was real, and what was a nightmare."

"More than you probably know," Ayale muttered darkly, making sure that her clanmate couldn't hear her before clearing her throat. "What's the last thing you remember clearly?"

"Uhhh… the clan?" Tamlen offered unsurely. "We'd just been fighting with Fenarel over some comment he'd made. You'd think he'd have learnt after all this time."

"Yeah," Ayale chuckled despite the gravity of the situation. "You'd have thought."

"Marethari came over and asked what happened," Tamlen continued. "I said that started it, and got put on hunter/patrol duty."

"Fenarel was confined to camp, and I had to help Master Ilen, just to stay out of trouble," Ayale summed up.

"But you managed to talk your way into patrol duty… with me," Tamlen noted, a small smile crept shyly onto his face. "You always were good at talking your way around anything."

Ayale tried to ignore the blush that she knew was flourishing across her face. She didn't know why he could always do that to her, make her feel like a besotted da'len speaking to her first crush. She pointedly overlooked the fact that he was her first crush, first and last she had once told Ashalle.

"After that," Tamlen paused to think. "That's when everything starts getting hazy."

"Do you remember the shemlen?" she inquired.

At the mention of the humans they'd come across, Tamlen's face darkened. Even as weak as he was, he still had the energy to sneer and despise shemlen.

"Yeah, I remember," he answered coldly. "You said we could let them go, that we'd scared them enough and that they wouldn't bother us again."

"Do you remember the carving one of the shems was carrying?" she pressed, trying to steer him away from his contempt for the taller race.

"It had Elvish on it," he recounted.

"We decided to check out the cave they'd been jabbering on about," she steered, hoping that he'd take over on the recount of the last time the two of them had spent together.

"Spiders..." Tamlen murmured. "Lots of giant spiders, and... walking corpses."

Ayale watched her clanmate closely. She wasn't sure if she liked the faraway look in his eyes. It was easy for her to see that he wasn't in the tent anymore, but back in that cave, fighting spiders and the undead.

She knew it was unfair to make him recount everything that he could, especially so soon after everything that had happened. But, she had to know how much he could remember, how much he needed filling in, and what information she could skip. It was unfair, but she had to do it.

"What about the demon?" she asked quietly, almost afraid of his answer. "And the mirror, do you remember what you saw?"

Tamlen blinked and his eyes snapped back to hers. She could see how shocked he was, and afraid. She had never seen him so afraid, and it tore at her to know that she had to the one who brought what remained of his world crashing down around him.

It was obvious that he'd felt safe in the belief that it had all been a nightmare, and now she was about to tell him that it had all happened, all of it was real. She couldn't tell him how much of it was real, and what was dream, since they'd been apart for the past three months.

The time frame was another thing she had to mention. She breathed in deeply and offered a silent prayer to the hahra for much needed strength.

"Tam," she started, calling him by the nickname she hadn't used since he'd stopped calling her Aya. "All of that happened three months ago."

Her clanmate didn't reply, choosing instead to watch her intently, obviously waiting for her to admit that it had been a poor jest. She hated when he gave her that particular look. It always made her anxious and she bit her lip apprehensively, as she always did when she giving bad news.

Considering how much had happened, she was surprised she didn't bite her lip more often. But, maybe she did and simply wasn't aware of it.

Regardless, Tamlen noticed the motion. His frosty demeanour was instantly shattered and he looked at her fearfully.

"It... was real?" he stammered. "The song, the pain... All of it?"

Ayale didn't answer. She didn't need to, and both of them knew it. Seeing her clanmate look at her so brokenly as the realisation and understanding sunk in, she didn't try to stop the two tears that escaped her eyes.

"And... the glade?" he finally ventured timidly. "You... gave me something?"

More tears flowed down Ayale's face, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She was aware that she had stopped breathing when he'd mentioned the glade, and despite the necessity of breathing, she wasn't willing to start again.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

Tamlen's eyes went wide in horror, and she felt the pit of her stomach fall out. She could see that he'd stopped trembling and was now shaking. His hands, which had been lying flat across his stomach and beside him, slowly clenched into fists that held the blanket that was draped over him.

Suddenly, he shifted slightly, and turned his head to look away from Ayale. He was deliberately staring at the tent wall, avoiding any and all eye contact with his clanmate.

Cautiously, Ayale reached out and touched his skeleton-like hand. She wasn't sure what she'd been hoping, maybe for him to look at her, to let her comfort him, maybe something like that. Instead, the moment her fingers brushed the back of his hand, she watched in despair as he used what little strength he had to jerk his hand away from her.

Neither of them moved for a time. Finally, Ayale retracted her hand and returned it to rest in her lap. A moment later she pulled the blanket off herself and stood up, crouching slightly so that she didn't hit her head on the roof of the tent. She kept her eyes on Tamlen constantly, hoping that he'd take interest.

"I'm going to get Hahren Wynne," she explained. "She's one of the Circle's mages and a really good one, too. She's a good healer, maybe even to the level of Keeper Marethari. She'll want to know that you're awake."

Tamlen didn't answer her. She waited for a moment, hoping that he'd turn to her or simply say something to her. But, to her disappointment, he did neither. When she realised that she wasn't going to get a response from him, she left the tent.

The morning air was crisp and bit at her face. She breathed in deeply, letting the chill air freeze and soothe her jittery nerves. She ran her hands across her cheeks, brushing away the tears that had fallen from her eyes.

She frowned angrily. Ever since she'd joined this hahra forsaken mission to unite Ferelden and stop the Blight, she'd cried more in the space of three months than when she had been a da'len. She found it infuriating, the idea that she could be reduced to tears so easily, when she used to be one of the most stoic of her clan's hunters.

She breathed in again to calm herself down. She turned round to face Wynne's tent, where the mage was only just getting up. She quietly approached the older woman and remained a respectful distance until she was certain that Wynne was awake.

"Daln ee'ya, hahren," she greeted quietly.

"Oh," Wynne started slightly before smiling at the she-elf. "Good morning, Ayale. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"A little," Ayale replied, nodding her head. "Tamlen's awake, or at least he was when I left. He may have fallen asleep again."

"Well, after what he's been through, I wouldn't blame him for sleeping," Wynne noted thoughtfully. "But, it's good to know that he's woken up."

"Yeah," Ayale agreed unenthusiastically.

"You don't sound very happy about that, my dear," the mage observed.

"It's not that!" Ayale protested adamantly. "I... I just... I guess the past few days are catching up on me, that's all."

"Hmmm," Wynne hummed unconvinced. "I suppose I should examine him, to see what help I can offer."

"Ma serannas, hahren," the she-elf smiled appreciatively. "But please, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself. Using magic is draining after all, is it not?"

"I thank you for your concern, my dear, but I'll be fine," the mage assured. "I'll just finish organising my supplies and then I'll see to your friend."

"Is that all you have?" Ayale queried, looking over the older woman's shoulder.

There were merely twenty health poultices, of varying potency, and thirteen lyrium potions. The number of injury kits was even lower, depressingly so. There were no free flasks that Wynne could use to distil more of any of the necessary liquids.

Ayale glanced suspiciously over to Zevran's area in the camp, feeling fairly confident of the location of the majority of the flasks. She sighed and turned back to Wynne.

"Why didn't you tell me we were getting low?" she asked confusedly.

"At the time, Zevran hadn't stolen all the empty flasks and used them for his poisons," Wynne noted, confirming Ayale's suspicions. "And afterwards, you were so worried about Tamlen. I didn't want to add to your concerns."

"Ma serannas, hahren," Ayale smiled. "But it would have been a welcome distraction, I think."

"I see," Wynne murmured before chuckling. "I'll have to remember that."

"I guess we'll have to send some people back into Denerim to get your some more flasks, and some more supplies," the she-elf mused.

"Flasks will be enough," the mage assured. "Making potions will give me something to do while we wait for your friend's health to improve."

Ayale's shoulders sagged at the mention of time. The smile on her face slipped off and was replaced by a concerned, uncertain frown. She bit her lip gently in apprehension.

"We can't do that," she stated sadly after a few seconds pause. "We're running out of time."

"I'm sorry?" Wynne asked in confusion. "What do you mean, my dear?"

"The Blight," Ayale explained. "We have no idea when the archdemon is going to appear, or when the horde is going to strike. We have to get to Haven, find this Brother Genitivi, and see if the Ashes really are where he believes they are. We have to cure Arl Eamon, we have to recruit the Dalish, and the durgen'len. We have to raise an army, and we don't know how long we have before we have to fight. We don't have time to be sitting around, waiting for Tamlen to regain his strength."

Ayale fell silent and stared at the floor. She was determined that she wouldn't start crying again, not when the path ahead of her seemed so clear. It made perfect sense, and it was practical, logical even, to carry on. They had wasted enough time on this distraction, and they had to continue with their mission.

But, she knew how heartless it was, to save Tamlen from the thrall of the darkspawn and then leave him out to dry, as the shemlen would say. She had been afraid that, at the ruins, she'd abandoned him and left him to die. She could help but feel how similar the situation was. What made the current situation worse was that, this time, she'd consciously leave him behind.

An old, weathered hand slowly reached out and hooked a finger under her chin, gently pulling upwards. Reluctantly, Ayale allowed her chin to rise and she found herself staring into the concerned eyes of Wynne.

The mage didn't speak, only look at her with a mixture of understanding and pity. It was as if the older woman knew what thoughts were plaguing the she-elf. Then, she released her leader's chin and returned the hand to hang by her side.

"I think we can spare a few days, Ayale," Wynne assured, speaking softly.

A cry of surprise made the two women turn sharply towards the main camp. They found Alistair sprawled on the floor outside his tent. He rose to his knees shortly after and frowned in confusion before looking back, lifting the one leg that was still in his tent. Apparently the templar had tripped on something.

Ayale turned her head when she heard snickering on the other side of the fire. There she saw Zevran bussing himself with something, all the while trying not to burst into laughter. Even with the distance, Ayale could see the assassin shaking with the effort, and the smug grin that was plastered over his unremorseful face.

Ayale sighed in exasperation and stormed over to Zevran. She grabbed hold of his ear and twisted it. Ignoring his yelp of pain and pleas for release, she dragged him over to Alistair. She dropped him once they were close and promptly removed the tripwire that had been constructed just outside the tent.

"Ashalle always said Fen'Harel makes work for idle da'len," she muttered as she stood up.

She saw Alistair glaring several different threats towards Zevran. Most were promises of revenge, probably in the form of some kind of prank, while others were showing hints of more deadly intents.

"Alright!" Ayale called at the top of her voice, earning her the attention of everyone in camp. "Anyone want to go on a shopping trip to Denerim, before they too fall prey to camp fever?"

* * *

End note: This is now my longest story, both in word count and in the number of chapters, and I'm nowhere near finished! I'm so proud.

Elvish translations (my words and phrases in _italics_)

Da'len –Child(ren)

_Daln ee'ya hahren_ –Good morning elder

_Hahra_ –Gods

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (female)

Ma serannas hahren –Thank you elder

Shemlen –Human (Shem is the slang form of the word)


	13. Shopping trip

Ayale could feel the irritation coming off Alistair in waves, and that had nothing to do with the taint. He probably would have been more at ease if Zevran hadn't volunteered to go to Denerim with them, as he still hadn't forgiven the Antivan for the tripwire prank. The fact that the assassin kept bringing it up wasn't doing any favours.

The elf was pointedly ignoring Ayale, not speaking to her and even going as far as not looking at her as often as he could. She knew he was mad at her for twisting his ear and dragging him over to Alistair. While the ear twisting was painful –a fact she knew far too well from experience– she knew he was upset with her for ruining his fun in such a brash way.

Sten had also joined them in their shopping trip, which had surprised many and caused Leliana to pull a face. The qunari had simply stated that, since they would be buying many items, it was only logical that the strongest member join the excursion so that multiple trips were unnecessary. He had also noted that he was the strongest and could carry the most, which would also cut down on the number of trips they would have to make.

Ayale, however, was convinced that their resident greatsword specialist had been looking for any excuse to get out of the confinement of camp.

She had almost been expecting Morrigan to volunteer to join them in obtaining supplies. But she would then remember that the apostate was probably used to staying in camp for extended periods of time. Well, there also was the fact that Denerim was a very large city with a Chantry and Templars everywhere. The woman might not fear either, but she certainly had the sense to know when to stay away.

Denerim market was as busy as ever with the morning bustle. The stall owners were all trying to yell over each other to grab the attention of the most potential customers. The sights of all the products that were being sold, and the scents of those few that had such... everything blended together to a melodious chaos that sent Ayale's head spinning.

Soon after entering the Denerim market, Alistair suggested that they enter the Gnawed Noble Tavern to freshen up before they started shopping. As Zevran and Sten, the former eagerly and the latter reluctantly, agree to the proposal, Ayale allowed the men to make their way to the inn, following them at a slower pace.

When she finally walked through the doors, she saw that the men had already found seats and were halfway through their drinks. Alistair cheerfully waved her over and pushed a mug of a non-alcoholic beverage that he'd bought for her.

Thankfully, the templar had remembered her telling him that the Dalish refused to drink what she had called 'a substance that corrupts even the purest of hearts and most devout of minds'. She was intrigued to notice that he was also avoiding alcohol, and wondered absentmindedly if he taken her words to heart.

"You've been spinning that mug around for the past few minutes, my dear Ayale, and have not taken a sip," Zevran observed, speaking to her for the first time since they left camp.

"Something on your mind?" Alistair queried worriedly.

Ayale raised her head to look at the trio about her. All three of them were looking at her with some degree of concern, even Sten. If he was worried about her, then she must look unhappy.

She sighed in resignation and pushed the mug away slightly. She clasped her hands together and rested her thumbs against her lips as she thought.

"Tamlen hates me," she whispered quietly.

Alistair exchanged shocked glances with Zevran, who seemed equally as surprised as he was. The pair looked over to Sten, who didn't seem overly fazed by Ayale's confession.

"Why do you think this, Kadan?" he asked, his brows wrinkling in confusion.

"He asked me to kill him, back in the glade, but I didn't," Ayale explained, feeling slightly surprised at how level her voice sounded. "When he woke this morning, I asked him how much of the past three months he could remember."

"He remembered all of it," Alistair stated, apparently able to see where she was leading.

"Yeah," Ayale nodded sadly. "He won't speak to me, or even look at me."

"Perhaps he is just too tired?" Zevran offered. "After all, you yourself have said that he has been through a lot."

"He had enough energy to look away from me and stare at the tent," Ayale muttered.

She sighed again, shook her head, and stood up. She gave the men an apologetic grimace and shrugged.

"I'll get started on the shopping," she stated.

"Wait, what about your drink?" Alistair protested.

"Ir abelas Alistair, but I'm not thirsty," she explained.

She then turned and walked out. She was almost proud that she had escaped the situation without shedding a single tear. She silently prayed that shopping would help her to take her mind off the situation.

Outside, Ayale turned right to go down the alleyway to the Wonders of Thedas. She knew that emporium still had flasks in stock, and lyrium potions. She also hoped to buy ingredients that could be doubled up for making poisons and traps, for there was an amazing amount of variety in that shop.

She spun round when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Her hand instinctively reached for her Dar'Misaan, but she did not draw the blade when she found herself staring at Zevran. After staring at the man in surprise for a moment, she relinquished her grip on the hilt and allowed her hand to fall to rest beside her thigh.

"I do believe shopping will be quite difficult if you do not have coin with which to purchase items, no?" he asked rhetorically, holding up the leather purse that held their money.

Ayale closed her eyes and sighed in frustration with herself. She opened her eyes and approached the male elf, who gave her the purse without a word. She felt her face lift a small smile of gratitude to him.

"Ma serranas Zevran," she thanked.

"You seem preoccupied, my dear," he noted. "Your friend?"

Ayale dropped the smile and looked at the ground. She knew that he was only being concerned for her, but it didn't stop the bitterness of the topic stinging her eyes and constricting her chest. She was silent as she let the sensations pass and allowed herself time to think of an adequate response.

"We've been lethalline ever since we were five. He means a lot to me," she shrugged. "I didn't save his life only for this..."

She rubbed her eyes. She wasn't crying, but the sensation was there and she was finding it quite disconcerting. She inhaled deeply to calm herself.

"If we had halla milk," Ayale mused on brighter note. "He'd be able to recover a lot quicker. Halla milk is rich in nutrients."

She looked down to her right wrist and fiddled with an inexpensive bracelet. It was made of low quality gold and had three small crystals, one garnet and two emeralds. The design and quality clearly revealed it to be of shemlen craft, and she smiled at the memory.

"I remember one time, while Tamlen and I were still da'len," she reminisced. "We were asked to escort Ilen, the craft master of our clan, to a shemlen settlement. It was the first time either of us had ever really been near humans. I was fascinated by all the different stalls, but Tamlen was really wary."

Ayale giggled at the memory.

"I think he watched me more than he watched Ilen," she mused. "While we were there, I saw a shemlen woman collapse onto the floor. No one else seemed to have noticed, so I went and helped her up, and I got her to a seat."

"That was very generous of you," Zevran observed. "I didn't think Dalish would do that kind of thing for a human."

"Well, I was still very young and I couldn't see any harm in helping her," she admitted. "It turned out that she was with child, and it was making her very weak. I felt sorry for her, and so, when we got back to camp..."

She paused as she flushed with embarrassment and she grinned mischievously.

"I stole a water skin that was full of halla milk and I returned to the settlement on my own," she continued. "I offered the skin to the woman and her husband, telling them that it kept the Dalish strong, and I wished the same on the woman."

"Very generous," Zevran repeated.

"Hmmm," Ayale hummed. "They asked me what I wanted in return, but I wanted nothing. I didn't get any further because Tamlen came tearing into the village and grabbed my arm and dragged me away. Once we were in the forest, he shook me so hard and yelled at me for pulling such a stupid stunt. I got a whacked backside by Keeper Marethari and was confined to camp until we left the area."

"So, it wasn't such a good ending," Zevran noted disappointedly.

"Oh no, far from it," she assured. "The next day, the husband came looking for the camp. He said that the halla milk helped his wife so much and wanted to know if he could trade for more. Before he left, he asked to speak to me, and gave me this bracelet in thanks."

She held up her wrist to show Zevran the trinket. The assassin knelt slightly to inspect the bracelet, and frowned slightly in disappointment, obviously displeased at the quality, or lack of.

"I know it's not much, but it meant the world to me," Ayale noted, looking at her gift fondly. "Marethari was pleased that my actions had brought a shemlen to think of us in a more positive light. I was still in trouble though, for going off on my own and without telling anyone what I was doing."

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun," Zevran chuckled. "It would have been interesting to see you stuck in one place for a while."

"Nah, being confined to camp wasn't that bad," Ayale shrugged. "I was more upset with Tamlen not speaking to me for the next week."

"Wasn't impressed with your little stunt, I see?" Zevran guessed.

"No," she shook her head slightly, smiling. "Not at all."

The pair was silent for a moment. Neither of them knew what else they could say to continue the current conversation, or what new topic was prudent to discuss. Then, the two of them looked down at the purse, and Ayale lifted it up with a small smile.

"I'd better start shopping," she stated with a little laugh. "You'd better get back to your drink before Sten or Alistair takes an interest."

Zevran burst out laughing at her comment. He nodded his head in agreement and, after giving her a quick wave, turned around and returned to the tavern.

Ayale stood there for a moment, watching her companion leave. She smiled slightly, feeling that she'd made up for ruining Zevran's fun. She was grateful that Zevran was being understanding, but she had the suspicion that the assassin didn't hold grudges, for very long at least.

After one last glance at the entrance to the alleyway, where Zevran had disappeared, she turned and continued walking to the Wonders of Thedas.

She emerged from the emporium half an hour later with numerous flasks, potions and other crafting items that she had already decided to not inform Zevran about. As useful as some of the ingredients were in poison making and herbalism, she also knew what interesting effects they had in cooking. She knew this simply because of the various times she had been forced to use such unusual ingredients when she and Tamlen had been hunting and one of them –usually Tamlen– had forgotten to bring food with them.

She was slightly concerned that none of her companions had joined her in the shop. Zevran had given her the purse with their money, which was now somewhat lighter, and therefore had no coin with which to buy more drinks or to do their own shopping. Unless he'd only given her a small amount, which was possible but unlikely since she'd counted the money whilst paying the tranquil proprietor.

She ducked into the tavern to check if the men were there, but the table was being used by some other patrons. She looked around the room, but couldn't see any of them. Certain that they weren't there, Ayale withdrew and continued towards the main market square.

"Ayale!"

Ayale looked around until she saw Alistair waving at her, beckoning for her to come over. As the trio were all standing around one stall, she promptly started walking to join them.

The stall was run by a man who was getting on in years, and young girl who had to be no more than fifteen summers. It seemed to be containing mainly fruits, vegetables and meats. Alistair seemed to be taken by something in particular, and as Ayale approached, she realised that it was a complete wheel of cheese.

No. Not complete. He was already tucking into it.

"Have you bought that Alistair?" Ayale asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to," he assured. "Could you lend me two sovereigns and twenty-three silver?"

"Is that for the bit you're eating?!" she demanded worriedly.

"Nope, for the whole thing," he promised. "You should try it, Ayale. This has to be the best cheese I have ever tasted."

Ayale resisted the urge to sigh at the templar, however, she was unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She knew that he had a fetish for all things cheese, but this was something even for him. He hadn't even bought the wheel and he was already tucking into a piece, which meant that she had to at least buy the bit that he'd already stuffed into his face.

"Ayale, would you try this?" Zevran asked, holding out a tankard.

"What is it?" she asked, eyeing the tankard warily.

"Nothing harmful, I promise," he assured her. "The stall master is letting you try a free sample."

"Again I ask: what is it?" the she-elf repeated.

"Just try it, Ayale," Alistair chuckled, his mouth half-full with cheese.

At this, Ayale huffed in annoyance. However, she held out her hand and took the tankard from Zevran. She took a brief look at the liquid within, which was an off-white colour, and warily stuck her nose down the tankard and sniffed. Still, she had no clue on what it was they trying to get her to try. The only option she had left was to taste it.

"If it's alcohol, I'm spitting it out," she muttered under her breath.

Hesitantly, she raised the tankard to her lips and raised it. She allowed a small sip of the liquid into her mouth and she lowered the heavy mug.

Swirling the liquid about inside her mouth, she noticed that, at the very least, she couldn't taste alcohol. It made her tongue tingle as she recognised the taste as something familiar. She couldn't remember that last time she'd tasted it, but it was familiar. She swallowed the small mouthful and as it hit the back of her tongue she knew exactly what it was. She quickly took another sip, just to be sure.

"Halla milk," she stated after swallowing her second mouthful.

The stall owner smiled proudly. He then turned to Alistair and Zevran.

"I told you it was, but I'm glad you had such a reputable expert with you," he noted. "I would hate for my customers to think that they were getting anything less than what I offered."

"Indeed, but you understand that we would not wish to offend our friend here," Zevran mentioned offhandedly.

"Of course, of course," the stall owner agreed. "The last thing I would wish to do would be to offend a Dalish, especially after all they have done for me."

Ayale frowned suspiciously at the man's comment and turned to look at him. She let her eyes rake over the man's appearance, absorbing everything that she could about him. She then tried to mentally smooth out the many wrinkles on his face, and she suddenly recognised who she was staring at.

"Aneth ara, shemlen Andrew," she stated confidently.

The man frowned in surprise and confusion, obviously not expecting her to know his name. He looked over her with the same intense scrutiny that she'd given him. However, he couldn't seem to recognise her.

"Are you from one of the clans that I trade with?" he asked politely, still looking at her quizzically.

Ayale didn't answer him, but instead raised her right arm to hold her wrist at eye level. The little bracelet stood out against her rough leather glove and wrist guard.

Andrew's eyes widened as he saw the bracelet, recognising it instantly. He then looked at her face with an expression of disbelief, if it was because he couldn't believe that it was her or that he hadn't realised it instantly, she wasn't sure. Andrew then suddenly broke into a wide grin.

"You've been given your vallaslin, my dear," he noted proudly.

"And you've gotten grey hairs," Ayale noted, smiling cheekily.

"That's what happens to humans after so many years," Andrew chuckled, before turning to the youth beside him. "Darling, this young woman is the Dalish elf that I told about, the one who saved your mother and you."

The girl had brown hair, drawn up into two plaited pigtails, and pale skin. She was slender, but she wasn't lanky. For a fifteen year old, she was certainly well filled out, even if she did still have a slightly childlike appearance in her face.

"She can't be, Father," the girl protested. "She's too young."

Andrew laughed good-naturedly, and even Ayale smiled indulgently. The two share a knowing look before turning professional.

"This is my daughter, Dawn," Andrew introduced, resting a hand on his child's shoulder.

"That isn't a coincidence, is it?" Ayale asked, narrowing her eyes in playful suspicion.

"No, it isn't." he admitted before clearing his throat. "Well, I'm sure you have more important things to do than talk to an aging man. For a Dalish, I always give a discount, but for you, my dear... I think I can up the discount a bit. What can I get you?"

"Well, we need fruit and vegetables," Ayale noted.

"And, could we have a churn of halla milk, if possible," Alistair requested.

"Certainly," Andrew nodded. "Would you like the cheese wheel, too? Made from halla milk, you know. Best stuff I've ever made."

The party of four left Denerim half an hour later, laden with food. Sten was, for once, at the front. He was carrying the churn of milk and a bag of oat; Alistair was fiercely protecting the cheese wheel, while Zevran and Ayale were tasked with bringing up the rear whilst carrying fruits and vegetables. Ayale was also loaded with her items from the Wonders of Thedas.

Ayale snuck a glance at the assassin next to her. He didn't appear to have noticed, so Ayale returned her eyes to the path before her. Just in time, too, for she nearly tripped over a stone.

"Something you would like to discuss?" Zevran inquired.

Ayale swore at herself for being surprised by his voice. She should have known that he would have noticed, he wouldn't have been a good assassin otherwise. As he hadn't looked away from the road, and deciding that it probably would be a good idea to follow suit, she didn't turn to look at him.

"I was just wondering how much of our little discussion you mentioned to Alistair and Sten," she answered honestly.

"Nothing, I swear," he promised. "Wynne asked Alistair to find a churn of milk, if possible."

"Why would she ask him to do that?" Ayale mused rhetorically.

"From what I managed to overhear, she wanted to stop you from making a difficult decision," Zevran murmured quietly, so only Ayale could hear. "I'm not too sure what she was talking about, though."

The she-elf stopped walking. She stared at Zevran, who hadn't stopped with her. He was letting her have a moment of surprise, which he somehow knew was coming.

And Ayale was surprised. She had only mentioned her concerns with time to Wynne just to get it off her chest. She hadn't expected the older woman to come up with an idea to ease those concerns, even less an idea that was actually feasible.

With milk from shemlen farms, Tamlen would recover in a few weeks. With halla milk, he'd recover even faster. She wouldn't have to force him to leave, or stay somewhere. He could stay with the group!

She quickly started walking and caught up with the three men, with only Zevran noticing that she'd fallen behind. She suddenly felt very excited about returning to camp. She had to thank Wynne for her stroke of absolute brilliance, she had to get Tamlen–

Her excitement plummeted as quickly as it rose. He was mad at her for not killing him when he asked. Even with halla milk, he may not improve. She suddenly realised the he may not even want to live after everything that had happened.

In front of her, Alistair glanced over his shoulder and looked knowingly at her. Without a word, he turned away and carried on walking.

* * *

Elven translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

Aneth ara –(Informal/friendly greeting)

Da'len –Child(ren)

Ir abelas –I'm sorry

_Lethalline_ –Friends

Shemlen –Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing


	14. Unaware

"You know, my dear," Zevran mused. "You never did tell us why the name of that merchant's daughter wasn't a coincidence."

"Didn't I?" Ayale asked. "No, I don't think I did."

"Are you going to tell us?" Alistair asked, turning his head round to talk to the two elves.

"I suppose I could," the she-elf shrugged. "My name, Ayale, comes from 'ayal len'aan' which means 'dawn daughter."

"And the daughter's name was Dawn," Alistair noted.

"Exactly," she confirmed.

No one replied, as her tone had stated that she wasn't going to explain further. Only Zevran gave her a knowing look, but he also remained silent.

Soon, the flickering of firelight appeared through the trees and the party saw the rest of their companions.

"We're back," Alistair called jovially as they entered the camp.

"T'was an obvious statement, Alistair," Morrigan muttered. "I saw you enter the forest twenty minutes ago and I believed that I should warn the camp of your imminent return."

"Ouch," Alistair moaned overdramatically. "You know, Morrigan, you make me feel unloved."

The apostate turned her head to glare icily at the templar. The pair stayed motionless for a few seconds, waiting for the other to make a move. Their staring contest was broken off when they heard Ayale laugh behind Alistair.

"Not in public, you two," she chuckled as she walked past Alistair. "Not in public."

She heard Alistair sputtered something unintelligible behind her, but she didn't turn round. Instead she walked further into camp to where Sten had already set down the churn of halla milk and the bag of oats, to deposit her own load of food. She allowed herself a moment to stare at the churn, and she could feel gratitude rising up in her chest.

She then stood up and turned her head towards Wynne's tent, which was currently being used by Tamlen... she prayed that Alistair didn't sense the dread that was worming its way about in her stomach, making her feel extremely queasy. She didn't like the idea of Tamlen hating her, but she considered that it was better than her worst case scenario. If her clanmate told her that he wanted to die, despite her best efforts... she didn't want to think about that.

She shook such thoughts away as she saw Wynne exit the tent. The older woman looked tired and perhaps a little harassed. But, Ayale was pleased to notice, she didn't look overly worried.

The mage smiled when she saw the she-elf, and approached Ayale. She took a moment to observe and scrutinise the food that the shopping party had brought back, and nodded in satisfaction. She eyed the churn with relief that was obvious to Ayale.

"How..." Ayale broke off to clear her throat. "How's Tamlen?"

"Not pleased with having a _shemlen_ taking care of him, even if she is a batty, old shem-mage," Wynne replied, smiling in amusement.

Ayale cringed slightly. Even if Wynne found Tamlen's attitude funny, she didn't like that he was being disrespectful to her. She felt the older woman's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, comfortingly.

"He's alright, if not a bit irritable," Wynne assured. "He's far thinner than I'm happy with, but all things considering... he's doing well."

"Good, that's... good," Ayale nodded. "I, eh... heard about what you asked Alistair to do. Ma serannas, hahren. I mean it, thank you."

"Ayale, after everything you've gone through, I think you deserve this," Wynne stated comfortingly. "And, I have to say, you certainly delivered on the milk."

"Oh, this isn't just any milk, hahren," the she-elf noted, instantly perking up. "This is halla milk, and probably the best milk in all of Thedas."

"Really?" Wynne inquired interestedly. "And how's that?"

"There's no way I can explain it, you'll just have to try some," Ayale replied. "Though, I'm afraid I have to confess... I have no idea why Alistair was so-"

She stopped mid-sentence as she stared, dumbstruck, at the templar. The shemlen was busily arguing with Morrigan, about how to cook no less, and hadn't moved since he'd entered camp. He was still holding the cheese wheel, and in a fiercely protective manner.

"Alistair?" Ayale called, waiting until she had the man's attention before continuing. "You can put the cheese down, you know."

The templar looked at her quizzically, not understanding what she was talking about. He then lowered his eyes to his arms, and seemed genuinely shocked that he was still carrying his food load. The poor man blushed red with embarrassment as he slowly made his way over to the two women to relieve himself of the cheese.

Nearby, Leliana and Zevran were beside themselves in fits of barely contained laughter. When Ayale had reminded Alistair about his cargo, they had thrown subtly to the wind and had burst out laughing. Zevran clicked his fingers and held out his hand towards the bard, who promptly fished out five silvers from her personal purse.

Alistair glared at the two rogues before setting the cheese down and facing Ayale and Wynne with a sheepish look on his face.

"You were saying, my dear?" Wynne prompted.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Ayale turned to Alistair. "Alistair, why, in the names of the hahra, did you insist that we buy that bag?"

"What bag?" Alistair queried.

"What bag? The one that Sten was carrying all the way here," she explained pointing at the object. "Seriously, what is in it and what are we going to use it for? It looks suspiciously like halla feed to me."

Alistair looked at her, stunned. He shifted his attention from her to the bag and then back to her. It was obvious that he was trying to put two and two together. When he finally made the connection, he looked even more surprised.

"You- you've never had porridge before?" he stuttered incredulously.

"No..." she admitted warily. "What's porridge?"

"Porridge is nothing more than oats boiled in water or milk, Ayale," Wynne explained. "And, it'll be an easy meal for Tamlen to eat, not to mention it'll help him to get back on his feet quicker. Tell me, did you come up with this idea all on your own, Alistair?"

"You sound surprised," Alistair observed. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"There may be some contest to that statement, Alistair," Morrigan called from the other side of camp, earning another bout of laughter from Zevran and Leliana.

Alistair glowered and crossed his arms moodily. After a moment, he huffed sulkily and turned his back on the apostate and rogues.

"Ma serannas, lethallin," Ayale thanked him. "Truly, this means a lot to me."

"No problem," Alistair assured, instantly brightening up. "I mean… well, you know."

Ayale raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was talking about, but decided not to ask. She then turned her attention to the bag of oats and the churn of milk before looking back towards the shemlen.

"So… will someone teach me how to make this porridge?" she asked.

Twenty minutes later found Ayale standing over the camp's communal cook pot, stirring the ever-thickening, off-white coloured substance. It still looked like halla feed to her, only now it looked waterlogged. She wasn't entirely sure how everyone in camp could be eagerly waiting for someone to say that this… meal –if it could be called that- was ready.

Wynne was standing over the she-elf, instructing her in what to add to the mix and when. The mage had been regularly sampling their concoction and had said at the last taste test that it needed only a couple more minutes. Ayale wasn't sure how she could know that, because the only thing that she had seen change was the thickness of the… whatever this was.

"I think it's ready, dear," Wynne noted over her shoulder.

"Uh… alright," Ayale agreed unsurely. "Come on, everyone, it's ready."

Wynne took the ladle and spooned herself out a portion and moved away to eat it. Next was Leliana closely followed by Zevran, then Sten, and then Morrigan. Alistair brought up the rear, and he had two bowls.

"Uh, they're not both for me!" he protested when Ayale looked at him quizzically. "Wynne said to let you have your dinner and I was to get a bowl of porridge for Tamlen."

"But," Ayale objected. "But I was going to take this… porridge to him."

"Well, you have had a long day," Alistair noted. "Why don't you let someone else do this tonight, and then take over tomorrow?"

Ayale thought about the proposal, and she thought hard. As much as she wanted to help Tamlen, she was worried about what he might say. She was worried that he hated her, that he would never forgive her, and worst of all, she feared that he may still want to die.

The day's worries had left her feeling on edge, and she had to admit, she probably would be in a better mood to face Tamlen in the morning. She wasn't sure if he would hate her more for not showing her face that evening, but she decided that she would have to chance it.

"Alright Alistair," she conceded wearily. "I'll take over in the morning."

Without another word, she spooned the porridge into the two bowls for Alistair and then took some for herself. She took her regular seat and warily took a mouthful of the stuff.

It wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. The taste was bland, but she knew at least three ingredients that she could add to the next one to give it more flavour. One fact she was certain of was that it wouldn't have had half as much taste if she hadn't used halla milk.

"Mmm," Leliana hummed on her right. "This is wonderful. Maybe next time, I could cook this and show how it's done in Orlais. We add sugar, or perhaps have honey on the side to be added. Or fruit! Porridge is wonderful with chopped up fruit, even better if they've been cooked as well. Dried fruit is good, too, I suppose."

"In Antiva, we add salt," Zevran noted to the left of Ayale. "Cook it, add salt, and then serve it on the side of meals. I particularly liked having it with beef."

Ayale listened in fascination. While everyone had a different method of cooking and eating this unusual meal, it seemed to be a universal dish. She made a mental note of mentioning this to Keeper Marethari when the Blight was over and she could return to the clan.

"Although, I have to say," Leliana continued. "This tastes much better than the Ferelden way of cooking. Is it just because of the halla milk?"

"I followed Hahren Wynne's instructions," Ayale replied. "So… yes, I think it is."

"Ayale?"

The she-elf looked up to see the aforementioned mage standing above her. She looked very confused… and she wasn't the only one.

"Hahren?" she replied. "Aren't you tending to Tamlen?"

"I thought you were," Wynne stated.

"But Alis-"

Ayale closed her eyes as she realised what had happened. She cursed quietly to herself and then looked back to Wynne.

"I am going… to kill him."

* * *

Tamlen was thinking. He'd been dozing most of the day, having few moments in time where he was conscious enough for his mind to form complete thoughts. One of those moments had currently come, and as a result, he was thinking.

He'd seen an elderly shem-mage come in a couple of times during the day, checking him over, ensuring that he was comfortable and occasionally using magic to heal some injury that she'd overlooked. He knew that he'd been disrespectful to her, and knew that it probably wasn't helping him. But he had his reasons, he didn't want her to see how afraid he was.

He'd been having sudden pangs of paralysing fear all day, as if being weak from fever wasn't bad enough. At those times, it had felt like panic was suffocating him, and he would struggle to breathe, often bringing the shem-mage to come and use her magic to soothe and ease the tension in his body. But, there was nothing she could do to alleviate his concerns towards his clanmate.

He hadn't seen Ayale all day, and the shem-mage had given him a roundabout answer whenever he'd asked about her. He was beginning to wonder, and fear, if she had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, some apparition to ease him from the dream back to the real world.

But… he knew that he went to the spirit world to dream, and that only dreamers and the dead were there, as well the hahra and other spirits that resided past the Veil. That meant, for her to guide him back as if she were Ghilan'nain herself, she would either have to be dreaming like he was…

Or she would have to be dead.

He felt himself go cold at that thought. The last clear memory he had was in the underground temple with her. They'd come across a mirror and he had let his curiosity get the better of him. Apart from the images that he saw and the whispering that took up residence in the back of his mind, he remembered a flash of light. It had blinded him for a second, but not long enough for him not to see Ayale get thrown across the room.

Had she died then? Was every hazy memory after that nothing more than a dream, or a hallucination that he had made up to keep himself sane up to this point?

He heard the flap of the tent move and he felt his heart leap into his throat. It happened every time, as he hoped that a moment later Ayale would walk through and speak to him.

But disappointment was all he got. It was a shemlen, a man this time. He was clearly a warrior like Tamlen, if his armour and his sword and shield were anything to go by.

The man looked at him for a moment, perhaps checking to see if he was awake, and then made his way in and sat down. There was a bowl in his hand, something was in it and it was steaming gently, making him feel very, very hungry.

It was then that Tamlen realised that he hadn't eaten anything that day, and he found himself hard-pressed to remember the last time he had eaten anything, not to mention what it was. If that bowl wasn't for him, he knew that he was going to get very rude with this shemlen.

"Are you hungry?" the shem asked curiously.

Tamlen didn't reply and only glared at the man. He couldn't believe that he'd been asked such a stupid question. Wasn't it obvious that he hadn't eaten properly since hahra knew when?

If this shemlen was going to torment him by denying him food, he wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing how much it was bothering him. Perhaps the shem-mage would come and intervene… he could only hope.

"I hope you are, after all the trouble we went through to get everything," the shem continued. "And Ayale did such a great effort on it, too. I'm surprised she'd never cooked this before."

That name shattered through all of Tamlen's defences. This shemlen knew Ayale! A thousand questions ran through his head, making his ears buzz. When the man opened his mouth to speak, he focused all his attention on the next word.

"Of course, she did have Wynne behind her, telling her what to do," the shem continued. "But still..."

He took a small spoonful of the strange substance that was in the bowl and nonchalantly put it in his mouth. Moments later, his eyes widened and he cringed. With his mouth still full of whatever it was he'd tried eating, the shem could only grunt in disgust.

Had he the energy, Tamlen would have laughed at the shemlen. Instead, he watched the man flounder about until he finally managed to swallow the concoction. Tamlen swore that, whatever it was, if the shem couldn't stand eating it he wasn't going to touch it. While there was a chance that the shem was faking it, he had a feeling that the man couldn't act to save his life.

"Maker's breath!" the shemlen swore. "That's hot."

Tamlen allowed himself to smile slightly. It seemed almost stereotypical that a shemlen wouldn't check if the food he was about to eat was going to burn his mouth.

"Perhaps it's a sign not to eat someone else's food?" Tamlen suggested.

"Ah," the shem smiled, despite his burnt mouth. "So you are talking to me."

The shemlen put the bowl to a side, and then returned his attention to Tamlen. He looked over the elf, scrutinising every detail that he saw, mapping out every line of his vallaslin, noting the overall look of extreme thinness, and finally regarding the obvious degradation of muscle in practically every part of Tamlen's body.

"You sure went through hell," the shemlen murmured quietly, sympathetically.

Tamlen decided to ignore his statement. He could hear the sympathy, and detested it. He didn't want sympathy, he wanted answers.

"Lethallin... is she..." Tamlen asked unsurely.

He was sure if he was just giving the shemlen more to taunt him with, or if the man would actually answer his questions, not that he'd asked any yet.

"Hmm? You mean Ayale?" the shem inquired, unaware of the pang that shot through Tamlen's heart. "She's fine. She's right outside, having her dinner. I... sort of tricked my way into coming in here. She probably thinks Wynne is in here, and Wynne thinks Ayale is in here."

Wynne... Ayale had spoken that name before. Tamlen wondered if that was the shem-mage who'd come into the tent periodically throughout the day, but he wasn't going to ask.

"Why did you do that?" Tamlen asked tiredly, remembering that the shem had mentioned coming to the tent sneakily.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you, just to clear something up," he assured, an uneasy look crossing his face.

Tamlen didn't like the look. He had a bad feeling that he was about to be asked a question that he wasn't going to like. He sighed wearily, deciding to get it over with.

"Ask your question," he instructed.

"Do you hate Ayale?"

Tamlen stared at the shemlen. He wasn't sure if he'd just heard him right, and yet he knew that the man. He couldn't believe that that was the question. All the words were familiar and understandable, but putting them together in one sentence like that, he couldn't comprehend the meaning at all. The thought alone was something completely foreign, but to imply that the thought was something substantial... it was unfathomable.

"Did you tell her that I hated her?" Tamlen inquired, struggling to keep his voice even.

"No, I didn't suggest anything," the shemlen protested. "She's the one who said it."

"And what would make her think that?" Tamlen pressed, desperation creeping into his tone.

"Something about you not talking to her and looking away from her," the shemlen replied.

Tamlen didn't reply straight away, going over in his mind to remember the incident that the shem was talking about. He was certain that it had been just after he had woken up that morning.

He knew that Ayale had asked him how much of the past few months he remembered, which was more than he was willing to admit. He had remembered the glade...

"I want to talk to her," Tamlen announced suddenly.

"Uh… you sure?" the shemlen asked warily. "I mean, I know this really isn't any of my business, but I've stuck my nose in now, so I just-"

"I want to talk to her, shemlen," Tamlen snapped.

He knew that getting irritable with the human was a bad idea, and he would probably refuse to let Tamlen near Ayale, if she was even here. After all, he'd been in a fevered state, and could easily enough have spoken her name as he slept.

He suddenly felt himself go cold, before anger rose up in him. It coiled up in his chest, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to seriously hurt this shem, who was wasting time with all of his prattling. He had no idea where the anger had come from, but he wasn't in the mood to question it.

"Wow, she's angry," the shemlen winced. "That took longer than I expected, actually. Though, that might be why she so mad right now."

Tamlen shook his head slightly, not understanding what the human was talking about and finding that it only irritated him further. The shemlen looked over to him and gave him a knowing look.

"I'd better go and get Ayale, calm her down a bit, too," the shemlen noted. "But, I think she'll calm down when I tell her that you want to talk to her."

The shemlen stood up and made his way to the tent flap. He paused and looked back to Tamlen.

"Oh, and if she strings me up to a tree and shoots me before we meet again, my name's Alistair and it was a pleasure talking to you," the shem announced.

Then, without another word, Alistair ducked out and closed the flap.

* * *

Elven translations (my words and phrases in _italics_):

_Ayal len'aan_ –Dawn daughter

_Hahra_ –Gods

Hahren –Elder

Lethallin/Lethallan –Friend (Male/Female)

Ma serannas –Thank you

Shemlen – Human (Shem is the slang form of the word)


	15. Fears Unfounded

Ayale was livid. She knew that Alistair could sense her anger, and she hoped that he would be at least a little intimidated by it. Maybe he'd think that she'd string him up to a tree and riddle him with arrows. Good. After all, he deserved it for lying to Wynne and her and sneaking into Tamlen's tent.

Tamlen... odds were that he'd feel her anger too. Would he recognise it as hers, or believe it to be his own? That disturbing thought tempered her rage, and she forced herself to take a slow, calming breath. As furious as she was with the shemlen templar, she didn't want her clanmate to come to odds with him because of her inability to control her emotions.

That said, her irate state promptly returned upon sight of Alistair leaving the tent. He looked uncomfortable, obviously aware of the grievous offense that he'd caused. He also looked somewhat wary once he caught sight of Ayale.

Regardless, he walked away from the tent and, rather bravely, towards the she-elf. He was fidgeting, so he knew that he was on dangerous ground with her at the moment. However, he maintained steady eye contact, and wasn't trembling as he stopped a few paces away from his leader.

"Before you murder me in some horrible and painful fashion," Alistair started, clearly aware of what ideas where passing through Ayale's mind. "Tamlen wants to speak with you."

Ayale didn't speak, didn't move, for a moment. She glared at Alistair, scrutinising his expression, digging for any hint of doubt or deception. Finding none, she blinked and turned her head towards the tent. She breathed in and walked stiffly past Alistair, refusing to look at him lest she gave into the urge to break his nose again.

Once she was standing outside the tent, she paused. All of her anger had dissipated, and she was now feeling very ill. She had no idea what her clanmate wanted to talk to her about, and she was afraid of what Alistair might have told him.

Gathering up her courage, she breathed calmly, pushed the tent flap aside and ducked in.

Tamlen was lying still on the bed mat. It took a moment for Ayale to realise that his eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly. From the time Alistair had left and she had come in, he'd dozed off. The thought made Ayale smile slightly at how adorable the situation seemed to her, reminding her of similar times with the clan. But he was exhausted and she knew that he had good reason to be.

She quietly made her way to his side and sat down. She made sure she was settled, being careful not to spill the bowl of porridge that Alistair had brought in for Tamlen. Then, when she was comfortable, she reached out and rested her hand lightly on her clanmate's forearm. When he didn't stir, she gently shook him, much like Ashalle had done for her several times.

Tamlen shifted as he struggled to return from the spirit world. He breathed in deeply and exhaled, before finally forcing his eyes to open. He looked at her blearily for a moment and then began to focus on her.

"Lethallan," he murmured quietly.

"Tamlen," she smiled shyly. "How are you feeling?"

He thought about his answer seriously for a moment, and Ayale waited with bated breath. She wasn't sure if she was going to like his answer, but told herself not to jump to conclusions. Her heart lurched suddenly when he chuckled quietly.

"Like I just did Asha'megidi," he replied, smiling at her.

In spite of herself, she giggled slightly at his answer. If he was able to joke like that, then things were looking up. Of course, she knew that, while he'd made light of his answer, he would be very tired.

"And you, lethallan?" he asked.

"I'm well," she nodded surely.

"Good..." Tamlen whispered tiredly. "Good."

There was an awkward silence between the two elves, both clearly wanting to talk about something important, and neither of them knowing where to start. They occasionally looked at each other, but mainly stared at some point in space only visible to them, thinking and structuring their thoughts into something akin to coherency.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Ayale asked with feigned cheerfulness.

She regretted asking, seeing Tamlen's face pale as it did. However, the question her mind was not something she particularly wanted to ask.

_Coward,_ she thought venomously to herself.

"I..." Tamlen started uncertainly. "Uh..."

Unable to watch him struggle, trying to find the words that were also eluding her, she sighed.

"Ir abelas, Tamlen," she murmured, staring at the sleep mat that she was sitting on.

"For what?" her clanmate asked confusedly.

"For what? For everything," she explained. "For not insisting that we spoke to Marethari, both once we knew about the cave and when we'd established it's location, for not making sure that you stayed away from that hahra forsaken mirror, for not pulling you away after you'd touched it, for leaving you in the ruin... take your pick."

"Lethallan," Tamlen called objectively. "You- thought you left me?"

"Didn't I?" she inquired interestedly. "The last thing I remember was a bright flash after you touched the mirror, and then I woke up two days later."

"That flash threw you across the room," he stated. "Scared me so badly, I thought you were dead with the way you weren't moving. I ran over to you and I shook you, by the hahra, I shook you so much and I yelled, but... you didn't wake up."

"Tamlen," Ayale whispered sympathetically.

"I thought that I'd killed you," Tamlen continued. "I was such a nenarn, I hadn't listened to you, and because of that, you were dead. I was just about to beg to the hahra to give you back, to take my life instead, when you finally stirred. I thought the hahra had listened to me, and I was about to drop dead."

He smiled slightly at the memory before shaking his head.

"You started screaming, telling something to stop. You said that you were scared, and you... begged me to make them stop singing," he recounted. "I stepped back a moment and listened. I hadn't heard anything beforehand, but when I noticed, I couldn't believe that I hadn't been able to hear it before."

"The call of the darkspawn," Ayale mentioned. "Anyone who gets corrupted by the taint is linked to the darkspawn, and the darkspawn group. That's what we were able to hear."

"Huh. I never would have guessed," Tamlen mused.

"I wonder why I heard it before you did," Ayale pondered.

"Maybe I was able to hear it. I just wasn't listening," Tamlen suggested.

Ayale shrugged nonchalantly. Such thoughts were essentially pointless since nothing could be done about the past.

"Anyway... you were getting more and more upset," Tamlen continued after a moment's silence. "I decided that it was best to get you back to the clan, and see if Keeper could do anything to help. You wouldn't move so I had to pick you up."

He fell silent for a moment and then smiled at her. After another second, he chuckled quietly before forcing himself into showing a serious expression, through his lips were still tweaked into a smile.

"Do you have any idea how light you are, lethallan?" he asked, chuckling as Ayale's cheeks flushed slightly. "I actually managed to get all the way out of the cave before I put you down."

"Because I was too heavy?" she inquired, wondering how he would answer.

"Would I ever say that?" he teased before shaking his head. "The song –the call, sorry- suddenly got a lot louder in my head. It was such a surprise that I either had to put you down or drop you."

"Well... ma serannas, for not dropping me," she murmured.

"It was strange," Tamlen mused. "When I stopped walking, you started. You took my hand and started pulling me, forcing me to move. We got as far as the clearing where we faced the shemlen."

"I don't understand," Ayale interrupted. "We were so close to camp. Why did Duncan find me outside the ruin?"

"At the clearing I couldn't go any further," Tamlen explained. "The call was so bad, it made my head hurt. It was calling me back, and I couldn't ignore it anymore. So I turned back. I left you lethallan, not the other way round."

"But... how did I...?" she wondered.

"You came after me, lethallan," he replied. "You kept grabbing for me, telling me that we were so close, that we were almost there. But, I couldn't take another step away. Then, I pushed you to the floor, I was suddenly so angry at you. I wanted nothing more than to hurt you."

Tamlen paused and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply, calming himself.

"You looked at me, just like when we were seven," he continued. "I... I realised what I was about to do and I... I ran. I ran as fast as I could, the song was so bad in my head that I could hardly hear you calling to me."

"Duncan must have heard me," Ayale theorised. "He must have heard me screaming and found me. After that, he carried me back to the clan, and Marethari used her magic to weaken the corruption enough for me to survive. And then, I became a Grey Warden."

Tamlen didn't comment and was quiet for a moment, thinking. He chewed his lip absentmindedly and frowned unhappily. He then suddenly turned his head away from Ayale and stared at the tent.

"If I'd listened to you lethallan, none of this would have happened," he noted sourly. "I never would have tried to hurt you."

"But, Tamlen," Ayale protested in confusion. "You didn't. You said it yourself: you were about to. But, you didn't."

"Not at the ruins, no," he agreed begrudgingly. "But what about the glade? I... I tried to kill you!"

Ayale opened her mouth to speak, and stopped. She could see that his cheek that she could see suddenly reflected the light as tears silently fell down his face.

She felt her stomach drop in shock. She'd never seen Tamlen cry before, not even when they were young. She'd always been the one in tears with him holding her shoulders if someone had upset her, or her hand if she had an injury that Keeper Marethari was tending.

"Tamlen... You wouldn't have hurt me," she assured him.

When she saw him scoff, unconvinced, she moved her hand, which had been resting on his forearm, to carefully grip his chin and jaw. As gently as she could, she turned his face so that he was looking at her.

"You weren't going to hurt me," she insisted, glaring into his eyes. "Those punches you threw at me? Do you really think that I don't know when you're swinging short? Even if I hadn't moved, you would have missed me."

"And what about later?" he queried bitterly. "After you gave me that cure... what about when I had my hands at your throat?"

"You had plenty of time to strangle me before you passed out, but you didn't," she stated factually. "The part of you that the darkspawn still controlled might have wanted me dead, but you chose not to listen to it. Tamlen... You didn't leave a mark on me."

"How..." Tamlen trailed off and cleared his throat.

Ayale watched Tamlen lower his eyes, despite her holding his head so that he faced her. He breathed in, calming himself, and then looked back up at her.

"How can you possibly trust me not to... not to hurt you?" he asked, his eyes betraying the fear that he'd kept out of his voice.

"In all the years we've known each other, you've never given me as much as a scratch," she murmured. "Even with the darkspawn forcing your hand, you didn't even bruise me. Tamlen, nothing will ever force you to hurt me."

Her clanmate's eyes danced thoughtfully as he ran her reasoning through his mind. His lips twitched slowly into a smile until he finally returned to steadily look at her, gratitude written in his expression.

Ayale smiled in return and released his jaw. She felt the temptation to brush her hand across his chest and arm, and angrily told herself that she'd been spending far too much time around Leliana and Zevran.

Dalish didn't behave like that! She may have been in shemlen company for three months for three months, and she'd practically forgotten every custom and tradition of her people. She knew that she shouldn't have left her hand on his arm after she'd woken him, especially since he hadn't said that she could.

She stared at the sleep mat she was sitting on, trying to ignore how her cheeks were burning up in embarrassment. The thought that Tamlen, or worse Alistair, could sense her humiliation only made the feeling worse.

"Lethallin," Tamlen called softly. "The shemlen said that you thought I hated you. What was he talking about?"

Ayale felt herself go cold as he asked. That explained why he wanted to talk to her, because Alistair had mentioned her fears to him. Obviously after sitting down and talking to Tamlen, she knew it wasn't true, but the fact that he hadn't yet told her that he didn't hate her... she was still doubtful.

"Tamlen..." Ayale spoke softly as she gazed at the sleep mat. "In the glade, you... asked me to kill you."

She forced her eyes up to look at her clanmate. The way he was focusing on her and the look in his eyes were enough proof for her to know that he remembered.

"Did you mean it?" Ayale asked finally, fearfully. "Did you really want me to kill you?"

"Yeah," he replied simply. "I did."

Ayale closed her eyes slowly. She felt a single regretful tear fall down her cheek as she accepted what Tamlen had just said. She kept her breathing normal and forced herself to remain calm, in both body and mind. She wasn't sure how well she'd kept her emotions out of the taint, but part of her believed she hadn't done very well.

"But, I'm glad you didn't listen."

She opened her eyes quickly to find Tamlen watching her calmly, surely.

"You... you don't hate me for doing any of this?" she asked doubtfully.

"Any of what?" he replied in an astonished tone. "Lethallan, you– You saved my life. How could I possibly hate you for that?"

Ayale smiled in relief. She swore that she could feel the worry that had weighed heavily on her heart lift and dissipate into nothing. She gently berated herself for allowing herself to be so badly affected, and reminded herself that Tamlen had easily changed his mind once she'd offered him an alternative.

"So, I'm forgiven for not killing you?" she asked lightly, teasingly.

"You're forgiven," he replied, chuckling.

"Ma serannas," she smiled.

A thought suddenly entered her mind, and she sighed in dismay. She raised a hand to her face, trying to rub the sudden weariness out of herself.

"Lethallan?" she heard Tamlen call her worriedly.

She lowered her hand to see her clanmate looking at her with unabashed concern. He could probably feel her emotions through the taint. Damn! That was another thing she had to mention to him.

That conversation was probably not going to go well, and she might as well get it over with.

"Tamlen... that 'cure' I gave you," she started, unsure of how to phrase the subject. "I... sort of oversimplified its effects."

Tamlen frown slightly in confusion. He clearly did not understand what she was talking about.

"There is no cure for darkspawn corruption," she stated factually. "But there is a way to temper its effect on a person. That's what I gave you."

"Ma shah mondrie, lethallan," Tamlen murmured, shaking his head.

"I don't know what the liquid's called, but it's used in a ritual called the Joining. It's what makes people into Grey Wardens," she explained. "It does something to make sure that the taint within our bodies doesn't control and overrun us."

"So... I'm a Grey Warden, now?" he asked.

"Pretty much," she confirmed. "Welcome to the Order."

"What do Grey Wardens do, lethallin?"

"Fight and kill darkspawn, keep an eye out for a Blight, fight and kill the archdemon," she listed. "That's it, really."

"Blight?" he queried, eye narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Archdemon?"

"Yeah... we are currently in a Blight," she admitted. "Three months into it actually. And the archdemon, well... it's what controls the darkspawn horde. I don't know what it looks like in the real world, but it's supposed to be a dragon, a big one."

As soon as she mentioned the word dragon, Ayale saw Tamlen's face suddenly pale. He had a haunted look in his eyes and seemed like he was going to be violently ill, and she had a feeling that she knew why. She knew that there was only one way he could possibly know about the archdemon's appearance.

"That's what you saw, wasn't it?" she asked gently. "In the mirror, you saw the archdemon."

Tamlen swallowed uneasily before nodding his head.

Ayale breathed out slowly and thought about what she was going to say next. Knowing that Tamlen was aware of the archdemon, and had probably heard the archdemon's call... loudly.

"The Grey Wardens are going to kill it?" Tamlen asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," she nodded. "It's our job."

"Then I'm going to help," he declared. "I'm a Grey Warden now, too. I'm going to help you kill it."

"Tamlen," she interrupted quietly, unsure of what she was going to say. "There's more to fighting the Blight than just going after the archdemon."

She felt her stomach clench uneasily as she watched her clanmate narrow his eyes suspiciously at her. She wasn't sure why he was looking at her with such hostility, especially since she was only telling him about the tedious work.

Not that he'd given her a chance to explain...

"We have to get support," she explained. "We have to gather an army, and several other things that I'm too tired to explain right now. The Blight has been going for three months, and I've only managed to get to the Circle of Magi and get them to join our cause. If the archdemon shows itself any time soon, we're not going to stand a chance."

Tamlen's face fell in realisation and understanding. He looked away from her, but not before she saw a glint of shame in his eyes, and frowned as he thought through her explanation. His expression then slipped towards surprise as he thought of something, and he turned back to her.

"You- you've spent..." he paused as he counted the days.

"It's only been three days," Ayale answered quietly, and then chuckled slightly. "I can't believe that's all it's been."

"But... if gather this army is so important," Tamlen mused, a thoughtful frown creeping across his forehead. "Why did you waste even a day to help me?"

Ayale didn't answer him immediately. She knew that several others in the group would probably have the same question to pose to her. If she couldn't answer him, then she had no hope of answering the others.

She chewed her lip slightly as she thought through all of her reasons, weighing up which were more important. Saving him just because he was lethallin to her was definitely low on her list... or at least it should be. She knew that he was one of the best hunters of their clan, and he'd protected her from shaal attacks plenty of times with his Dar'Misaan and clan shield.

Of course, Leliana was a proficient archer, and Alistair had focused in sword and shield techniques. But, she argued to herself, Zevran was better at wielding two weapons than she was, he could even hold two full sized longswords, while she didn't trust her left hand with anything larger than a Dar'Misu. She was the middle ground between the two rogues, and could take care of herself against ranged opponents, as well as close quarter fighting.

"Because I need your help," she answered. "You and I aren't as specialised as the others. Give them a different weapon and they won't know what to do. We're not like that."

Tamlen nodded as he contemplated her reasoning. He seemed impressed that she'd even thought that deeply, though he didn't look convinced that that had been her only reason for saving him. Or maybe he was hoping that wasn't the only reason, she couldn't tell.

"Well then," he muttered as he breathed in deeply. "I'd better concentrate on getting stronger. You wait, lethallan, I'll be standing by week's end."

Ayale stared at him in surprise for a moment, unable to believe what he'd just declared. Then she remembered all the harsh winters they'd spent with their clan, and how thin the pair of them had gotten on more than one occasion. She nodded to him and smiled gratefully, which he returned before looking at something near her ankles.

"Now, are you going to give me whatever that shem brought in?" Tamlen asked, eyeing the bowl suspiciously.

Laughing easily, Ayale picked up the considerably cooler bowl of porridge. After tasting it to check its temperature, she tended to her clanmate, helping him eat the ever-thickening mixture.

* * *

Elven translations (my words in _italics_):

_Asha'megidi_ –The Long Walk

_Hahra_ –Gods

Ir abelas –Very sorry

Lethallin/Lethallan –Friend (male/female)

Ma serannas –Thank you

_Ma shah mondrie_ –I don't understand

_Nenarn_ –Idiot/Fool

Shaal –animal (spoken by my character when encountering wolves and bears)

Shemlen –Human


	16. Moving On

"Cha hahra! Garren lassa'ma?"

Leliana turned her head towards Tamlen's tent, wondering what had upset the elf so early in the morning. She managed to turn her head just in time to see Ayale dash away towards the stream, a hand over her mouth as she tried to stop herself from laughing. Perplexed, Leliana looked back towards Tamlen's tent, where she could hear him muttering and cursing in rapid Elvish.

"And here I thought the Dalish were above such practical jokes," Zevran muttered good-naturedly as he joined the bard by the fire.

"What happened?" Leliana inquired, feeling annoyed at missing such antics.

"I believe she threw water over him," Zevran explained. "Of course, she left a towel just inside the tent, obviously for him to dry himself with."

At that moment, Tamlen exited his tent. True to Zevran's word, he was dripping wet from head to toe. And, he was furious. He glared across the campsite, obviously looking for Ayale, until he saw the two rogues.

"Viran se Ayale?" he growled, before realising that he was speaking in Elvish. "Where is Ayale?"

"Here," Ayale replied, re-entering the campsite with pitcher of water.

She ignored Tamlen's attempt at a death-glare, and returned to the main cook pot. She poured the water into the pot and started adding oats and chippings of elfroot into the pot.

Over a week, the churn of halla milk was practically empty, and Ayale had been talking about whether or not to return to Denerim to check if Andrew had more. The end result had been to water down the halla milk to help it last longer, and to make the porridge an added part of the meals. By that point, no one was complaining.

"Tamlen, there's no need to glare at me like that," Ayale stated conversationally.

"Do you have any idea what it's like having water thrown on you?" he retorted.

"Yes, Ashalle used to use ice cold water straight from the stream," Ayale replied casually, though she shivered at the memory. "Why don't you dry yourself off? I left a towel in your tent."

Tamlen didn't respond, choosing to glare at his clanmate for a few more seconds before disappearing into his tent to dry off. A few angry elven words escaped from beneath the material, as he'd probably sat on his soaked bedding, before the volume decreased to incomprehensible muttering.

"At least I put the water on the fire for a couple of minutes to take the chill off," Ayale murmured to herself.

"That was still very irresponsible of you Ayale," Wynne chided softly as she emerged from her tent, a few strands of hair escaping the mage's tie. "He's not really in the best form for such shocks."

"It's more often the only way to get him up in a morning," Ayale explained. "The number of times his... his mamae and papae used to throw water on him when we were da'len... I don't think they ever warmed the water."

Ayale smiled before returning her focus onto the thickening porridge. Her abrupt change in posture brought confused and slightly worried glances from Wynne and Leliana. However, Ayale's sudden dedication to preparing breakfast was enough of a sign to all that, whatever was bothering her, it was not open for discussion.

Alistair spared them the awkward atmosphere as he stumbled out of his tent, yawning as he mumbled something about darkspawn stealing his cheese. Leliana was glad to see a smile return to Ayale's face as the she-elf glanced at the bumbling templar.

"Porridge again?" Alistair asked lightly.

"For the last time," Ayale stated. "We are finally out of halla milk."

"Already?" Alistair asked in surprise, jerking himself to stare at Ayale with too-wide eyes.

"It's been a week, Alistair," Leliana reminded him quietly. "And, we've been using it every mealtime. It was bound to have run out by now."

The bard didn't miss Ayale biting her lip anxiously at the mention of time, and felt awful for bringing the time up. But, their leader smoothed her expression in time for Tamlen re-emerging from his tent, scowling like a cat thrown into water... or a cat that had had water thrown onto it.

He didn't speak as he sat down and waited, like everyone else, for breakfast.

* * *

Breakfast was quiet, relatively. Leliana and Zevran were chatting as usual, about what, Tamlen didn't know nor particularly care. Alistair was eagerly wolfing down the sludge that everyone called porridge, while speaking to Wynne with half his mouth full. And Sten... the qunari was silent as he always, watching everyone and the rest of the camp with surprising diligence.

Ayale was sitting next to him, as always, and was more interested in how much of her breakfast she was going to offer to the hahra than so much as looking at him. While he knew that she was probably giving him space after his reaction earlier, he couldn't deny that her complete avoidance of contact with him was slightly hurtful.

He spared a glance around the campfire, and saw that the shemlen bard was frequently glancing over to the two Dalish. Leliana's worried expression was more directed at Ayale than him, and he couldn't help but reflect the shemlen's anxiousness. Something was clearly bothering his clanmate, and it was not just him.

"Abelas, Tamlen," Ayale murmured quietly.

"Huh?" Tamlen grunted in surprise, turning to look to her.

"For this morning," the she-elf explained. "Abelas."

"Nal de'gar, lethallan," Tamlen assured her with a smile. "I'd... just forgotten what it was like to be woken up like that."

Ayale smiled gratefully in reply. She seemed to relax afterwards and finished her bowl. She held out her hand for Tamlen's bowl, offering to get him a second helping along with herself, and he happily gave it to her. When she sat back down, she chuckled slightly.

"I thought I'd finally get my own back on you," she noted nonchalantly.

"For what?" Tamlen sputtered indignantly, his mouth half-full of porridge that he swallowed awkwardly.

"The ayal after Keeper gave me my vallaslin," she reminded him, her tone deadpan. "You poured ice cold water over me, straight from the stream and complete with a still-living fish!"

Tamlen thought hard for a moment, trying to remember the event. Then the memory returned and he chuckled for a moment before silencing himself, but he found himself unable to remove the smug smile from his lips.

"I never knew you could scream like that," Tamlen stated, the moment replaying in his mind.

"I didn't scream," Ayale retorted in mock defensiveness. "It... it was a shout of surprise."

"Yeah... a shout," Tamlen repeated unbelievingly. "I didn't realise that it was possible for someone's voice to go that high, laan or leen."

Ayale glared at him in mock indignity, daring him to speak further on the matter. He stared back at her with the same intensity, fighting to keep his mouth from twitching into a greater smile than it already was.

"You two are going to be eating cold porridge at this rate," Alistair called, making the two break eye contact.

Ayale smiled at the templar and returned her attention to her cooling second portion of breakfast. Tamlen also started on his refilled bowl, taking a mouthful before a thought suddenly came to him. He frowned at it, baffled and intrigued, and quickly swallowed.

"That was ten years ago, lethallan," he stated, giving her a sidelong glance. "You're telling me you've been holding a grudge for that long?"

"Exactly!" Ayale replied brightly. "You'd expect me to get my revenge within ten days. But ten years afterwards, you've forgotten about it, and you're completely oblivious."

"I wouldn't have expected it after ten weeks!" he protested.

"Hold on-" Leliana interrupted. "You said that getting your valasin- velinsli- vallsali... blood writing was a 'coming of age' event, yes?"

"That's right," Tamlen confirmed.

"Then... how old were you? Twelve? Thirteen?" Leliana asked in confusion.

"What?" Tamlen laughed incredulously. "Try twenty-seven."

The entire camp fell silent as everyone stared at the two Dalish elves. Even Morrigan had turned her head from her camp, twenty metres away. Bodahn and Sandal were also taking an interest, if only to discover what had silenced the main camp.

"Vas... Neer... Dun," Ayale murmured quietly.

"You- You're thirty-seven years old?" Leliana shrieked as she regained the ability to speak.

"Three months of hard work," Ayale whispered with a grimace, leaning towards Tamlen. "And it's all unravelled in three seconds."

"All this time! I- I- I thought you were twenty three or something," Leliana continued. "Maybe twenty five at the most! But- you're thirty-seven?"

"Leliana," Ayale called calmly. "Tamlen is thirty-seven. I'm thirty-six."

"Only for another month, lethallan," Tamlen muttered quietly.

"Seths aras," the she-elf begged, burying her face in her hands.

Tamlen looked at her in surprise. He had never known her to be shy or embarrassed of her age, and had even stated it proudly in the past. It was strange to him that this group would cause her to keep silent.

And then, he looked about the camp.

Alistair and Leliana stared at them with unabashed shock, apparently unable to believe how wrong they had been about his and Ayale's age. Wynne also looked surprised, but there was a slight hint of jealousy beneath her gaze, probably for their still youthful appearance. Sten, if he was surprised, was successfully able to hide it, and stared at them with the same stoic expression that he always did. And Zevran...

Zevran seemed more intrigued than anything else, not to mention was gazing lewdly at Ayale. Tamlen fought the sudden temptation to walk over to the assassin and knock him into the Beyond for a couple of hours. As satisfying as that would probably be, he felt that everyone else probably wouldn't understand how offensive such behaviour was to the Dalish. That and he had the suspicion that it wouldn't stop the city raised elf from continuing to ogle at his clanmate once he woke up.

Suddenly, Ayale's reluctance to mention her age made much more sense.

"Well," Alistair spoke finally. "You did tell me that Dalish age slower than humans, Ayale. I suppose I should have expected something like this."

"Can we drop this and finish breakfast?" Ayale asked, trying to change the subject. "My porridge is getting cold."

"Speaking of porridge," Wynne mentioned quietly. "Didn't you say that we're out of halla milk? Will we need to return to Denerim to purchase more?"

"We haven't moved in a week, Hahren," Ayale noted. "We need to get back on the road and start making our way to this Haven place. Hey Alistair, hand me that map of Fereldan."

Tamlen was interested to notice that Sten had instantly perked at Ayale's statement, the qunari obviously fed up with staying in one place for any length of time. Zevran and Leliana also looked pleased at the prospect of moving on.

"And what about Tamlen?" Wynne inquired as Alistair handed over the map. "I doubt a week is sufficient time for him to heal, or even regain his strength."

"I'm right here, you know," Tamlen muttered loudly.

"I'm sorry, Tamlen," Wynne apologised. "I didn't mean to speak as if you were not present."

"It's not that, Hahren," Tamlen assured. "We could have left after a couple of days. I was willing to move on as soon as I was able to walk."

"That's hardly a responsible attitude, Tamlen," Wynne chided. "You needed far more than a couple of days to recover your strength. A week isn't enough either."

"Being Dalish, Tamlen and I are used to walking great distances with little food or rest," Ayale stated, drawing the agitated attention of the circle mage.

"As much as I hate to be the one to say this, Ayale-" Wynne began.

"Then don't," Ayale interrupted sharply, a glance that showed that she knew full well what the older woman was going to say.

"Ayale and Tamlen are right," Alistair stated, appearing uncomfortable in entering the conversation. "We need to move on. The Blight isn't going to end itself, and we don't know how much longer Arl Eamon can hold out."

With Alistair taking their side, Tamlen watched with suppressed delight as Wynne caved in to their reasoning and insistence to continue the journey. He snuck a glance at Ayale and could see that she was also pleased at the victory.

His elation lasted all of ten seconds, when his clanmate frowned and bit her lip gently in concern. She turned her head to him, and he could see a memory rising up beneath her gaze.

"But Wynne is right about one thing, Tamlen," she noted begrudgingly. "You're not going to be in your best condition. We know that from experience."

He frowned in confusion, wondering what she was referring to. It took a quiet growl from his stomach for him to remember the event. As long-dead fears struggled to rise from the graves of the past, he felt his face fall.

"You're right about that, Lethallan," he agreed.

"How about we test your skills?" she offered, a sly smile gracing her lips.

With a reply smiled, Tamlen shoved the last mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, swallowed and turned back to his clanmate. He gave her one sharp, but eager, nod.

* * *

Ayale rolled her shoulders, loosening them as she twirled her Dar'Misaan and Dar'Misu in her hands. Sten had never seen her do that before, and he found it a curious habit before a duel. True enough, he'd seen her exercising early every morning, and he had to admit a begrudging respect for the discipline and focus that she shows.

However, this was different somehow. Her face was as hard and as serious as any warrior of the Beresaad as she watched Tamlen acclimatise himself with a longsword and shield. Interestingly, the elf had the same intensity on his face, never taking his eyes off his clanmate. Clanmate... a strange word to Sten, but he gathered that it has a similar meaning to kadan.

"Baro, Tamlen," Ayale called, slightly impatient. "Dyre nos colla Dar'Misaan?"

Tamlen didn't answer her, but glared at her. Clearly she was trying to hurry him, perhaps provoke him, but he refused to rise to her taunt. Once he had finally secured the wooden shield to his arm, he stood to face Ayale, stretching his neck slightly, as if relieving himself of an annoying crick. He swung the longsword around once, as Ayale had done earlier, familiarising himself with its weight.

Zevran and Leliana were exchanging bets with Alistair outside the duelling ring, which Sten had erected as a way to occupy his time. A Blight was going on, and they hadn't moved for a week, he was getting impatient at the delays, not to mention he was bored out of his mind.

This however, he felt was going to prove interesting. What the two elves were planning, he had no idea, but immediately after breakfast, she and Tamlen had entered the ring and ordered everyone to keep out. With the looks those two Dalish had on their faces, not even the fool, Alistair, was about to inquire what they were planning.

Tamlen fell into a battle ready stance and started to walk around Ayale as she moved to mirror him. They circled each other for a moment before Tamlen lunged. Ayale battered his strike away easily, the clash of blades echoed loudly in the silent clearing, but she did not press the advantage, and instead retreated. She then struck at him, easily avoiding his longsword, and twirled around him, knocking her blade against his shield twice as she moved away.

Sten then realised that they were testing each other, or, more precisely, they were testing Tamlen's basic skill and coordination and the suitability of his equipment. They looked in their eyes showed that they were both satisfied and were prepared to start the duel in earnest.

The pair froze as they finally settled, staring at each other, waiting. They were waiting for the other to falter, waiting for a signal to begin, waiting for something... anything. Everyone in camp was watching, also waiting for a signal, and almost afraid to breathe, encase they tipped the scales.

Down at Sten's side, Torgan was panting as he always did. And then, the mabari sneezed.

The fight began.

Ayale was the first to move, approaching Tamlen faster than a Seheron viper can strike. Her opponent was hardly able to raise his shield in time before her Dar'Misaan collided with it, bouncing off with the deafening crack of metal on wood that made the Leliana and Alistair flinch. The force of the backlash sent the she-elf reeling, though she quickly recovered and whipped round face Tamlen again.

As the two elves circled each other, they shared a knowing look. It had been a cheap shot, and she wasn't going to be able to get another.

"Kanin Tamlen?" Ayale asked conversationally.

"Baro," he replied, which brought a particularly predatory grin to Ayale's face.

The two met each other again. This time, their blades struck against each other, Ayale's dual blades crossing over one another to halt Tamlen's vertical swipe downwards. With both of the she-elf's blades locked with his one, Tamlen brought his shielded arm in from a side, obviously intent on hitting his clanmate in the ribs.

Ayale saw and anticipated the move. She spun away to a side, freeing her weapons from the lock, and avoided the shield. Seeing that Tamlen had not returned to a ready stance, she seized the opportunity and raced towards. As Tamlen readied himself and threw his sword out in front of him, as if to skewer her, she jumped as she twisted about the outstretched blade and drew her Dar'Misaan above her head. She pushed her sword downwards, aiming for Tamlen's neck, but it harmlessly bounced off his shield, which he raised just in time.

The pair sprang apart from each other. Maintaining the newly formed distance, they circled each other, forcing their breathing to remain steady. Not once did they avert their eyes away from their opponent.

"Hey!" Alistair called worriedly. "This is a friendly duel. You're not meant to kill each other."

Both elves inclined their heads slightly towards Alistair, only to show that they'd heard him. However, their stances didn't change and they continued to size each other up, analysing each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Tamlen suddenly darted forward, his shield in front of him for when he barrelled into Ayale. When she skipped to his right, he twisted his sword out in attempt to lay a hit on her, which she easily dodged. He obviously saw that she'd flanked him and his back was exposed, for he swung his shield arm behind him. And just in time, for Ayale had swiped at his shoulders with her Dar'Misu, only for it to connect with the shield.

Tamlen spun on his heel, keeping his shield between them until he was properly facing her again. He barely had time to breathe before Ayale swung both her weapons at him. He ducked under her left arm and dashed away from her reach.

His clanmate turned to him, a superior grin sat smugly on her lips. Rather than raise her weapons into a battle-ready stance, she stood casually with the tips of her blades resting lazily on the ground.

"Baro," she called tauntingly. "En varra'nil, en shah doras."

Tamlen's face darkened with enraged indignation. His leather gloves creaked as his gripped his sword and shield tighter. He raised his sword slightly and lowered his shield, which Sten noticed made Alistair grimace as he obviously recognised the stance.

Tamlen had lowered his defences so that he could sprinted forward with a burst of speed that wiped the smug look off Ayale's face as she was suddenly thrust into another bout unprepared. As the male elf reached his clanmate, he raised his shield to bash her around the face. With her quick reflexes, he missed her, but he had sent her sprawling back and forced her into a defence stance.

He swept his sword back and forth in front of him, every swing forcing Ayale to take another step back, giving more and more ground. Her Dar'Misaan and Dar'Misu were across each other in front of her, acting as a make-shift shield to deflect his merciless onslaught.

Then, she moved to the left, dodging his longsword and slipping inside his defences. Taking the opportunity, she swung her Dar'Misaan at his neck, obviously to separate his head from the rest of his body. With no other choice, Tamlen ducked, dropping practically to the ground. As his clanmate's attack sailed harmlessly over him, he struck out at her, sending his sword sweeping towards her ankles.

Ayale jumped at the last moment, and leaned forward. She pressed her hands onto Tamlen's back and flipped over him. As she landed, she didn't have enough time to turn or flee before Tamlen's shield was whacking the back of her legs, sending her to the ground unceremoniously and she landed with a thud.

Tamlen quickly rushed over to her and stood over her. Her arms were sprawled eagle-spread, leaving her defenceless. Tamlen smiled triumphantly as he lowered his sword dangerously near her throat, apparently oblivious to the tense atmosphere of those around him and Ayale.

"Dara'nas?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Ayale laid perfectly still for a moment her chest rising and falling quickly as she panted heavily. She turned her head carefully to her left and then her right, checking that it would be futile to try to move them to try and attack. However, she smiled sweetly at Tamlen.

"Shah," Ayale stated defiantly.

Then, as quick as lightning, her legs shot up. She drove one of her heels into the back of Tamlen's right knee, making him buckle and lose his balance with a surprised shout. As he started to fall, she used her other leg to kick him in his side, probably catching his lower ribs, if his grunt was anything to go by, and pushed him away from her.

Tamlen let out a pain-filled cry as he landed on the floor and rolled slightly once he hit the hard ground. Before he could recover from the shock, Ayale was upon him, kneeling on his exposed side to keep him on the ground. She laid her Dar'Misaan over his right hand, not worrying about his shield as he was laying his left arm, and laid her Dar'Misu across his throat.

"Dara'nas?" she asked calmly.

"Dara'nas," Tamlen growled, huffing irritably.

"Good," Ayale replied cheerfully, quickly standing up.

After sheathing her weapons, she extended a hand to Tamlen. He tossed his longsword away and took her hand and pulled himself up. Once he was upright, he returned his shield to its place on his back and picked up his sword and sheathed it.

Once they were unarmed, then turned to each other and smiled in a strange, almost maniacal, way. After a couple of seconds, they both burst into good-natured laughter, much to the confusion of everyone watching, Sten included.

"That had to have been our best fight yet, Tam," Ayale noted enthusiastically. "You almost got me then."

"I should have known you'd do something like kick me in the back of my legs," Tamlen chuckled. "But did you have to kick me in the ribs? That hurt."

"You're such a da'len," she teased.

"Umm, excuse me?" Alistair called nervously, fidgeting when both elves turned to him. "What was that?"

The pair turned back to each other, and frowned. Tamlen shrugged to Ayale and they both looked back to Alistair, frowning in confusion.

"You two looked like you were trying to kill each other," Leliana stated uneasily.

"We were, to a degree," Tamlen admitted. "Even if we're swinging a sword with all our strength, we can easily stop ourselves from actually killing each other."

"It's just how we train, Leliana," Ayale assured. "We've fought each other like that every since we became hunter apprentices."

"Before even that, lethallan," Tamlen corrected the she-elf. "Before that, we used to use sticks. And they were never the same size or weight."

"Ah, good times," Ayale chuckled reminiscently. "You've never once won a fight against me, have you?"

"Much to Fenarel and Junar's delight," Tamlen muttered darkly.

"Not that they ever won against me either," the she-elf reminded, obviously to soothe her clanmate's ego.

Ayale received a small, grateful smiled for her efforts. She then turned to everyone.

"Pack up everyone," she ordered. "We leave for Haven in an hour."

* * *

Author's note: My apologises for such a delay in updating this story, but my creative muse went for a walk and didn't come back. I put up wanted signs all over town, it was so sad. T_T But it's back and it let me write this. I also had the irritating realisation that my previous assignment of lethallan/lethallin was wrong, so I've had to go back over my story to correct everything, _again_.

Again, sorry for such a late update, but I'm hopefully back on track with this story.

Elven translations (my words in _italics_):

Abelas –Sorrow (also used in apologies)

_Ayal_ –Dawn/Morning

_Baro_ –Hurry up/Come on

_Cha hahra_! –By the gods!

Da'len –Child(ren)

_Dara'nas_? –Surrender?

_Dyre nos colla _Dar'Misaan? –Have you forgotten how to handle a sword?

_En varra'nil, en shah doras_–This is a fight, not a dance

_Garren lassa'ma_? –What the hell?

Hahren –Elder

_Kanin_? –Ready?

_Laan_ –Man/Men/Boy/Male

Lethallan –Friend (female)

_Leen_ –Woman/Women/Girl/Female

Mamae –Mother

_Nal de'gar_ –Don't worry

_Papae_ –Father

_Seths aras_ –Be quiet/Shut up

Shah –No

Shemlen –human

_Vas... Neer... Dun_ –Three... Two... One

Viran se Ayale? –Where is Ayale? (Dialogue is actually in the game from the ghost elf child)


	17. Reaching Haven

They had been travelling for the better part of a day, and had passed Redcliff less than an hour ago. Alistair had inquired about checking the Arl's condition, but begrudgingly agreed that there was little point, for they had made little progress on finding the Ashes.

The party was walking down the Imperial Highway, with Lake Calenhad residing down the cliff to their right. Ayale had taken the lead and was waltzing casually a few paces ahead of everyone. Her hips swayed gently with every step. And every time she took a step, she gracefully placed her lowered foot in front of her other in a perfectly formed line.

Tamlen resisted the urge to shake his head. He had no idea why he was noticing such tiny things about her, and he wasn't sure if he liked catching himself doing it. His embarrassment was only heightened when he saw that Zevran was making the same observations, only he was being far more obvious about it than Tamlen.

Unfortunately, Zevran was walking too far away for Tamlen to talk to without drawing attention, and moving over to the assassin was probably going to bring about a conversation he had a feeling he didn't want to have. That meant he was going to endure the Antivan ogling at his clanmate in silence, feeling indignant about it, since she was oblivious to the city elf's lecherous gaze.

He tried to keep Zevran in the corner of his eye as he walked. So focused was he on ensuring that nothing happened, he almost jumped when Leliana gently nudged his arm.

"How you doing?" she asked gently.

Tamlen gazed at the bard with obvious scrutiny, trying to uncover if there was an ulterior motive to her query. However, she seemed to be genuinely curious, if not slightly worried.

"Fine," he replied uneasily, unused to anyone other than Ayale being concerned for him. "This pace is far slower than the clan's when we have to move on from a place."

"That sounds so interesting," Leliana mused dreamily. "Moving on from place to place, meeting new people, seeing new places... It sounds like a wondrous way to live."

"Hardly," Tamlen snorted amusedly. "We move on to avoid getting shemlen coming after us with pitchforks, hatchets and anything else they can use for a weapon. And most are pleased to see us leave, not arrive."

"Oh," Leliana murmured quietly. "But surely you get to trade with some interesting people, and see many amazing things in your travels?"

"Very few want to trade with Dalish," Tamlen stated factually. "Only offering us their surplus items and most is very poor quality. We trade best with qunari, actually. They don't seem to care that we roam the lands."

"And what about the things you see?" Leliana asked hopefully. "Aren't there some things that you find amazing?"

"There are a lot of ruins in the deepest reaches of the forests," Tamlen admitted. "Many showing the glory of now lost civilisations."

"Are you referring to your people?" the bard queried hesitantly.

"No, not really. Most of the elvhen ruins are completely desiccated," Tamlen answered. "I do remember seeing a lot of Tevinter ruins."

"Oh?" Leliana cooed interestedly. "What were they like?"

"Overgrown, and full of strange artefacts," Tamlen recounted nonchalantly.

"What sort of artefacts?" Leliana inquired eagerly.

"How do you think lethallan and I ended up here?" he shot back curiously.

"Oh," Leliana murmured before falling silent.

Tamlen looked back to Zevran, checking that the assassin hadn't done anything while Leliana had distracted him. He then belated realised that Zevran was too far away from Ayale to do anything but leer at her. The city elf would have to move past many members of the party to get anywhere near her, and he would have seen the flat-ear move.

Unknown to him, Leliana looked over to Zevran as well, before looking back to the Dalish beside her. She smiled a knowing, conspiring smile.

* * *

It was an hour before dusk before Ayale finally led the group off the road and into the forest. As the last dregs of daylight shone weakly through the trees, only Tamlen was maintaining the pace that the she-elf had set, much to Alistair's chagrin.

He had prided himself to being in excellent physical condition, and yet only the most severely weakened member of the party was keeping up with their leader. Even Sten was struggling to keep up with the two elves, and he felt that was a statement in itself. The qunari was walking by Alistair's shoulder, as quiet and as stoic as ever, not showing any sign of exhaustion that Alistair somehow knew the larger man was feeling.

He was amazed to see a wolf trotting quietly behind the two Dalish, side-by-side with Torgan, until he realised that the wolf was Morrigan. He almost felt jealous that the apostate had another form with which she could change into, but then realised that he was being jealous of Morrigan and quickly shut the feeling down.

"Hold up, you two," Alistair puffed. "Some of us can't keep up."

At his call, Ayale and Tamlen stopped and turned round to observe the rest of the group. To prove to himself that his words were truth, and not just something he'd conjured up to make the pair stop, he peered over his shoulder.

Sure enough, the others were struggling. Zevran was several paces lower than him, panting as hard as Morrigan and Torgan probably were. Leliana and Wynne were walking slowly together, bringing up the rear. The circle mage had her staff in hand and was using as a walking stick, while Leliana had hooked her arm around Wynne's free one. The duo looked like they were the only thing keeping each other up.

"Baro," he heard Tamlen call.

"We've been walking up this mountain for hours," Leliana whined exhaustedly. "We're exhausted."

"There's a clearing not too far from here. We can make camp there," Ayale promised, a tone of tension in her voice that Alistair was surprised at.

She was getting good at hiding her emotions in the taint. He had hardly sensed anything off her for the past few days. Of course, now he wished he could, just so he could know if she was as tired as he was. If she wasn't, then perhaps it was a good thing that he couldn't sense her overly abundant amount of energy.

"And how far would this clearing be?" Wynne puffed.

"Ten more minutes, at most," the she-elf assured, looking around distractedly.

Alistair then noticed that both Ayale and Tamlen were scanning the forest around them, neither looking at one spot for very long. They were also looking in opposite directions to each other, switching viewpoints in what couldn't be anything less than trained synchronisation.

He looked away from their faces and realised that while the two elves weren't moving on, they weren't stationary. They were constantly shifting their footing, turning slightly to increase their field of vision, and were never standing with their entire foot on the floor. They were either on their heels or on the balls of their feet, and their knees were bent slightly.

Their hands were also restless. Ayale was flexing her fingers before clenching a couple of times and then starting to flex again, all the time rolling her wrists about. Tamlen was performing a similar exercise with his right hand, while merely clenching his left hand.

He felt his stomach drop as he realised that something was seriously disturbing both them. It seemed reasonable to him that if something in a forest was bothering two Dalish, he should be equally uneasy.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Something's not right here," Ayale answered, not once stopping her tense watch of her surroundings.

"No shaal, no birds, not even insects," Tamlen added uneasily. "This forest is too quiet. Even the trees are too afraid to whisper their fears."

"Something hangs over this place, a dark aura," the she-elf noted. "The forest is holding its breath, waiting for the presence to pass."

"Darkspawn?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"No, not darkspawn," Tamlen replied. "It's something that leaves a different kind of silence in its wake."

"A different kind of silence?" Leliana echoed, having just joined with Wynne.

"Darkspawn leave the silence of the dead behind them," Ayale explained. "Whatever this is, it's terrified everything into silence."

"Do you think it has something to do with this Haven place that Brother Genitivi's gone to?" Leliana asked concernedly. "And aren't we going there, too?"

"I get the feeling that we're not going to be able to avoid this, whatever it is," Alistair muttered under his breath.

"Come on," Ayale called suddenly. "Daylight fades and we've not yet made camp."

Reluctantly, everyone continued up the mountain. All were looking around nervously, vainly trying to spot the danger that their Dalish companions had alerted them to. Now that they were aware of the forest's unnatural stillness, the silence was deafening, and the tree branches above their heads made the path seem small and claustrophobic.

There was a universal sigh of relief when they reached the clearing that Ayale had promised. Within moments, everyone was unpacking and setting up their tents.

A few minutes into setting up his own tent, Alistair realised that two tents were missing. He scanned the clearing to see Ayale and Tamlen setting up their tents on either side of a tree trunk. Confused, he let his half-erected shelter and approached the two Dalish.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"We're setting up our tents," Tamlen answered smartly.

"Yeah, I can see that," Alistair quipped. "Why are you camping under a tree and not with the rest of us?"

"This is dahl'amythal," Ayale explained. "The tree of Mythal, the goddess of protection."

"Oh," Alistair mumbled, looking up tree. "Any room for one more?"

"Not really," Ayale replied. "Abelas Alistair."

"Shame, though I doubt she'd protect a human like me, huh?" he noted, smiling good-naturedly. "I'd better ask the Maker instead. Who's doing dinner tonight, anyway?"

"With the forest as it is, not even lethallan or myself are going to have any successful hunts," Tamlen stated disappointedly. "We'll just have to make do with what's in our packs."

"I think I still have some of that halla cheese left, if you're interested," Alistair offered.

"No," Tamlen declined as he shook his head, seemingly suppressing a shudder. "Ma seranas, but no."

Alistair shrugged and returned to pitching up his tent. As he walked back, he swore he could hear Tamlen mutter to Ayale.

"Half-starved or not, I'm asking Mythal's Blessing tonight."

* * *

The morning arrived as silently as the night had. Only the muted burble of the nearby stream was the only sound that Ayale could hear as she rose from her tent. Moments later, the quiet shuffle of moving cloth made Ayale turn back to the dahl'amythal.

She stood still as she watched Tamlen emerge from his own tent. He looked extremely groggy as he rubbed the back of his head and yawned. It had been just over a week since she'd saved him from being a ghoul, and his head was covered in a quarter inch of fuzz, which she knew would turn into hair in about a month.

The relief of knowing that he wouldn't spend the rest of his life hairless made her smile slightly. She didn't hide her smile when he finally looked at her with bleary, sleep-filled eyes.

"Did I wake you?" she asked quietly, uneasy with breaking the silence.

"Shah, lethallan," he replied. "Even under Mythal's protection, I didn't sleep much."

"I'm about to start my chisi'ayal," she stated. "Care to join me?"

Tamlen smiled eagerly, and nodded.

* * *

It had been so long since Tamlen had preformed chisi'ayal, he hung back slightly when Ayale stood out in the open space. When she turned back to him, her expression questioning, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Dayr nos chisi'ayal," he confessed. "Would you show me first?"

"Humph," Ayale huffed teasingly. "Tanina."

"To the letter," he agreed.

His clanmate smiled at him before shaking her head in mock exasperation. Then her face dropped into a still, peaceful expression as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was perfectly motionless for several seconds before beginning.

She raised her arms from her sides and stretched them gently towards the sky, her fingers splayed out as widely as possible. She held the position for a count of five seconds and then lowered her arms downwards, bending her back in a graceful, fluid motion, until she laid her palms on the top of her boots. After another five seconds, she straightened and held out her arms to either side of her, forming a straight line from the tips of her fingers, down her arm, across her shoulders, up her other arm and to her other fingertips. She twisted as far as she could to her left without moving her hips, and then moved her hips so she had turned her entire chest around. After holding the position, she turned to her right and repeated the exercise. She then straightened up to stare in front of her, and leaned to the left, sliding her hand down her leg, before repeating the motion on the right side of her body.

As he watched, Tamlen could feel himself burning as his eyes fly over her body, noting how well she'd taken care of herself. Her legs were toned to perfection, all muscle and no unnecessary fat. Her exposed stomach was completely flat, which revealed the greatly distanced, tiny bumps that were her hipbones. And the way she bent over made her breasts-

He stopped himself there.

That line of thinking was entirely too indecent, or at the very least had that very easy option of becoming indecent. That city-elf, Zevran, was a very bad influence, with his all too eager appraisal of Ayale's figure. He'd only been in the flat-ear's company for a week, and he was already forgetting Dalish customs. He dreaded being around the assassin for any given length of time.

"Are you going to join me, Tam, or just stare at me?" Ayale asked quietly, a gently smile gracing his lips.

Tamlen felt himself burning anew in embarrassment. It was one thing to look at someone like he had been, but it was completely different if said person caught him doing such. So with a sheepish grin on his face, he stepped out and joined her in warm up stretches.

He knew from experience that she repeated the exercises five times, and she would want him to complete five rounds, so long as he felt up to it. That meant that she would stand out and watch his last cycle of moves as he did her first. He could not deny that he was both eager for her watch him, and yet he felt unbelievably nervous about it, as well.

He forced himself not to think about it and instead focused on mirroring her postures. Strangely, noting her every move, every curve of her body was actually helpful for him in slipping into the old routine that they had once had with the pair of them exercising at the burst of dawn and sparring before most others in the clan had woken to break their morning bread.

However, the normalcy quickly ended when Ayale stood up and walked away from him to lean on the tree he had previously leant against, leaving him alone to finish. With her own exercises completed, the she-elf quietly watched him for a while and then walked over to where the two of them had left their offerings to the hahra.

"Uhh, Tam?" she called nervously. "Come look at this."

Frowning in confusion, Tamlen finished his exercises early and joined her side. When she didn't speak to him, he followed her gaze downwards to the ground. The sight made his heart skip a beat.

"Cha hahra," he gasped breathlessly.

At their feet were the two plates that they'd left out overnight. Nether offering had been touched, not even by insects.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Ayale whispered fearfully.

"Shah," he replied quietly, turning to look up the mountain. "What could be so terrifying that the hahra's shaal fear to touch our offerings?"

"Ma satheen, Tamlen," Ayale confided. "The hahra are powerless here. Mythal shah nal'shyn."

Tamlen didn't answer. He could sense her fear dimly through the taint, and it echoed his own. Nothing he said would ease her worries, and he could tell that she didn't expect him to. If anything, that made his stomach squirm uncomfortably as he realised that there was nothing he could do.

He lowered his eyes to look back at her. She was staring up the mountain like he had been, and her features shone in the morning light, only showing just how scared she really was.

Out of pure impulse, he gingerly laid a hand on her right shoulder. He watched her eyelids fluttered slightly at the contact, and then she covered his hand with her own. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, gently rubbing his thumb across her fingers.

She then turned her gaze to him. Her green eyes, soft and unusually vulnerable, met his blue ones. And then, he saw the fear and vulnerability fade from her gaze and replace itself with the self-confidence that he was accustomed to seeing.

He suddenly realised that she had allowed him to see a rare occurrence of true weakness on her part. She had always seemed like a pillar of strength to him, and to many in the clan, not to mention an infallible guide and moral compass. For her to let him see otherwise, he felt strangely humbled by her trust in him.

But the moment didn't last, for she knelt beside their offerings, carefully taking everything off the plates and meticulously placing on the ground.

"Abelas, nir hahra," She whispered quietly. "But we need to take the plates with us."

She rose to her feet and smiled at him and motioned for them join the main camp. She didn't wait for a reply and started to walk back.

Tamlen waited for a moment, watching her retreating back. He then looked back down to the offering that she'd left. He knew that it would have been unimaginably impolite to remove the offering, but he couldn't help but feel that it would be taken by rot and mould rather than the hahra.

Shaking such negative thoughts from his mind, Tamlen half-ran to catch up with his clanmate.

* * *

Elven translations (my words in _italics_)

Ableas, _nir __hahra_ –Forgive me, my gods

_Baro_ –Hurry up/Come on

_Chisi'ayal _–Morning exercises

Dahl'amythal –Tree of Mythal

_Dayr nos chisi'ayal _–I've forgotten the morning exercises

Elvhen –The people (Elvish word for themselves)

_Hahra_ –God(s)

Lethallan –Friend (female)

_Ma satheen_ –I'm scared

Ma serannas –Thank you

Mythal shah _nal'shyn_ –Mythal can't protect us

Shaal –Animal(s)

Shah –No

Shemlen –Human

_Tanina_ –Lazy


	18. Dragon's Wrath

Tamlen resisted chewing his lip like a spoilt da'len that'd just been told 'no'. He did, however, allow himself to cross his arms and glower at the party members who were joining Ayale in going further up the mountain. He wanted to argue with his clanmate, telling her to take him instead of Sten or Alistair, but could tell by the look on her face that his attempt would be in vain.

Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

"This is foolish, lethallan," he whispered quietly to her. "This place makes me nervous, and I'm listening to the feeling this time."

Ayale looked at him for a moment. Her eyes bore into his, reminiscing their last morning together before the taint had torn them and their world apart. Her eyes reflected the pain and anguish that he was certain she could see in his.

"We should go back down," he pressed.

"I know," she replied earnestly. "But we can't leave until we're certain that the Ashes aren't up here."

"Why do we even have to go after them?" he asked, the reasoning escaping him at the moment.

"We need them to save Arl Eamon," she explained. "He's a shemlen lord, of some description. Alistair knows him, and says that he'll support us against the Blight. Hopefully, the Ashes should restore him to full health –if the legends are true."

Tamlen nodded absentmindedly. He could tell by the tone in his clanmate's voice that she also thought that the endeavour was wishful thinking at best. He didn't need to repeat such negativities.

Ayale suddenly jerked her head slightly and looked skywards. Hers eyes danced searchingly before focusing on something. Whatever she'd found, a ghost of a smile graced her lips. She followed the object downwards and held out her hand. Moments later, a single snowflake landed on her palm for a few seconds before melting.

Tamlen joined her in searching the sky, trying to determine whether it had been a lone flake. In less than a minute, the air was filled with drifting, slow-falling, white powder. Everyone in camp paused to observe the spectacle.

"Lovely," Morrigan quipped sarcastically from the other side of camp. "We can freeze to death while digging for the bones of a madwoman."

Ayale smiled at the apostate's words, and then turned back to Tamlen.

"We'd better get going," she noted.

"Sure you don't want me coming along?" he offered.

"Shah," she shook her head gently. "Hahren Wynne would have our hides."

"Since when has that stopped us?" he teased.

"Ty'nan," she chuckled. "But I'd rather be in one piece when we face the archdemon."

"Dareth shiral, lethallan," he whispered.

"Ma serranas," she replied.

Without another word, he watched her walk away, with Alistair, Sten and Morrigan a few paces behind her. He tried to ignore the disquiet that echoed within his entire body as his clanmate disappeared through the curtain of steadily falling snow.

"Hahra... franan ee'ya. Mythal nal'shay," he prayed.

* * *

Ayale breathed heavily, gasping at the thinner air. Her Dar'Misaan and Dar'Misu were heavy in her hands, and her arms were shaking with the exertion. Despite the cold air around her, she knew that her skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, which had subsequently plastered her hair to her forehead, the ends poking into her eyes.

She could not have been more relieved to see Kolgrim finally fall to the ground, defeated, after being run through with Alistair's sword.

She had hoped to avoid conflict with the man and his cult, and had even agreed to pour the dragon's blood over the Sacred Ashes. Needless to say, she had thrown the vial into the nearest fire the moment she was out of the shemlen's sight. Unfortunately, no more than a minute after leaving the Gauntlet, Kolgrim and his cult had demanded why she had failed to accomplish her task.

Things had gone steadily downhill from there.

Ayale sheathed her weapons and wiped the blood spatter off her face with the back of her gloves. As she lowered her hand, she muttered as she realised that the rabbit hare that lined her gloves had been stained and ruined. She was going to need a new pair.

She raised her head at the sound of Alistair putting his sword and shield away. As if he could feel her gaze on him, the templar looked over at her.

"I swear: they wouldn't have known if I **had** defiled the Ashes," the she-elf declared, feeling as if she was trying to pose a reason for why the men had had to die.

"You're probably right," Alistair agreed, shrugging his shoulders.

"You shemlen are insane," she continued. "Abelas, Alistair, but I'm with Sten on this. This is a lot of fuss and trouble for a jar of dirt."

Alistair's face dropped into a look of surprise and then he drew up the 'affronted templar' persona.

"Abelas, Alistair, but it is!" she assured, hoping the he could sense that she meant no insult to his religion. "It's a jar of dirt! It's an ancient, glorified plant pot! If you put some flower seeds in there, they'd grow beautifully."

"Well, if that's all the Ashes are, why didn't you defile them?" he asked curiously.

"We Dalish know that life grows from death," Ayale stated. "The darkspawn spread the taint, which disrupts the cycle of life."

"More than you know," Alistair muttered so quietly, Ayale wasn't sure if she'd heard him properly.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Nothing," he assured.

"Well, I'm not about to add to that," Ayale promised, looking down to the tiny leather pouch that held a pinch of the Ashes. "I hope you know, if these Ashes don't work, I'm coming back for a refund."

Alistair's face cracked into a smile, seemingly struggling not to laugh. Morrigan, who had been lurking as far from the battle as she possible could, had a wry smile on her face, whether that was for Ayale's regard for the Ashes or her last comment, the she-elf wasn't sure. Sten seemed unimpressed with the entire situation, but the qunari hadn't been impressed with even coming to Haven.

"Come on," the she-elf called. "Let's get off this mountain."

Soon enough, everyone fell into step and started to follow Ayale towards the ruined temple.

A sound suddenly reverberated around the mountaintops, making Ayale stop dead in her tracks. It was a low, steady, solo note that made her spine tingle as she turned round.

Several metres away, Kolgrim had propped himself up on an elbow. He had his other hand raised, pressing a horn to his lips. He lowered the horn and smiled at them with a viciously smug look. Then, the man collapsed and didn't move again.

The sound echoed on for a few seconds before the area finally fell silent.

No one moved from where they stood, staring at the fallen cultist. Then, everyone took to glancing at one another, before Alistair finally shrugged his shoulders. No one seemed to have an explanation for the man's last act, until a new sound echoed across the mountaintop that chilled Ayale's blood.

As one, the entire party turned to face a huge shadow that had suddenly appeared on the dirt-covered cobblestones. Reluctantly, Ayale raised her eyes to the sky.

"Shyie'dya," she swore.

* * *

Tamlen pulled the arrows out of the target and returned them to his quiver. Ever since Ayale had left for Haven with Alistair, Sten and Morrigan that morning, he'd been practising his archery. He'd taken a break at Wynne's insistence, but had returned to practise as soon as he'd finished eating. Leliana had joined him shortly afterwards.

"You're really good at this, Tamlen," Leliana complemented. "Though, I suppose you've had far more practise than me."

"Considering that skill determines whether or not I have a successful hunt," Tamlen mused as he joined her at the marked distance. "I have to be good."

"Oh, so it has nothing to do with impressing anyone?" Leliana asked idly.

"What?" Tamlen frowned confusedly. "What are you talking about? Impress who?"

"Oh, nobody," the bard shrugged, releasing an arrow

His frown deepened in suspicion, but he didn't press the woman for any further details. As he returned his attention to the target, he thought about what she could have been talking about. He emptied half his quiver before pausing.

"_Ay'irdir! Hahra nal'shyn!"_

The scream echoed from within Tamlen's head, making him cry out in surprise. He dropped his bow and clutched at his head in pain. The scream had been so loud, the fear so heart-stopping. But, the worst part was that the voice was blood-chillingly recognisable.

"Lethallan!" he gasped.

Without a second thought, he snatched his bow up and raced to the target. He pulled his arrows out, caring only that they were useable, and stuffed them into his quiver. He ran over to where he'd left his sword and shield, and attached the two to his back.

Finally ready to fight, he turned and saw that Leliana, Zevran and Wynne were all ready for to enter battle. They all looked to him, their faces stern and prepared.

"Lead on, Tamlen," Wynne instructed.

Nodding in assertion, Tamlen took the lead, running as fast as he could up the mountain. Hearing the footsteps of the others filled him with a certain confidence and pride. They hadn't questioned him, hadn't attempted to calm him. They had just accepted that he knew something was wrong, and were relying on him to guide them to the others.

Running through Haven, Tamlen barely noticed the bodies of dead shemlen, many with deep cuts or magic-made injuries. He ignored the shemlen that appeared in the great hall of the ruined temple, running past so fast that the shem was a mere blur in his eyes for a split-second.

He bounded up two flights of stairs before skidding to a halt. He looked to his right for a few moments, staring at an ice filled corridor. He then bolted inside, running until a wall of ice and snow blocked his path. As he calmed his breathing, he could hear sounds coming from the other side: sounds of battle, and sounds of screaming.

Along with the sounds, he could sense a familiar presence not too far from him, a presence that he'd learnt to associate with his clanmate. He could feel the taint within his blood singing for him go continue on, to pass the ice wall, somehow, and join the battle.

He passed his bow to his left hand and pulled out his sword and started hacking away at the ice. He knew that desperation was setting his frantic pace, but he didn't care.

"Step aside, Tamlen," Wynne ordered from behind him.

Seeing the resolved look on the mage's face, Tamlen stepped away from the obstacle. Within moments, he saw Wynne stretch out her hands and fire erupted from her fingertips. He watched impatiently as the ice slowly receded, but soon enough, the way had been cleared.

He muttered a word of thanks to the mage and continued to run down the newly opened corridor. He barely flinched when he ran headlong into brilliant sunlight. Once his eyes adjusted, he was relieved to see Ayale before him, seemingly unharmed, with her weapons drawn.

Looking at more than his clanmate, he saw a sight that made him instantly freeze in absolute, unbreakable terror.

Ayale and her party were fighting a dragon, a huge dragon that towered higher than the tallest trees he had ever seen. The beast was roaring with a sound that made the very ground shake, and its tail whipped around faster than anything he had ever seen.

It took a moment for him to realise that something was moving through the air after being hit by the monster's tail. It took him another moment to realise that that something was Morrigan, and he helplessly watched the apostate fly through the air until she hit a column. She crumpled to the floor and didn't rise.

A terrified cry echoed through the open area, catching Tamlen's attention. He felt his heart stop as he saw Ayale dash away from the dragon that had taken to pursuing her, ignoring the taunts and threats of Sten and Alistair. He watched his clanmate disappear inside a rock crag, where the dragon's massive head seemed unable to get to her.

However, the dragon appeared determined to kill her, its jaws snapping and pushing further and further into the crevice. There was an aggravated scream from within the rock and the dragon raised its head high into the air. It roared in pain, with drops of blood falling to the ground, narrowly missing the she-elf as she escaped her hide-hole and darted away from the dragon's front. Just in time, for when the dragon lowered its head, it sent an inferno into the rocks, melting them slightly.

Tamlen could see Ayale running as fast as she could in a bid to find safety behind one of the two warriors. But, the dragon was quicker, and snapped her up into its jaws. It raised its head, along with its elvhen prize, high into the air, far from where any help could reach his clanmate. The monster tossed its head, shaking the she-elf as if she was nothing more than a da'len's doll.

A new kind of fear unfroze him, and he shook himself out of his terrified stupor. He dropped his bow and replaced it with his shield. Prepared for battle, he hurtled himself towards the beast.

As he approached a leg, he ran up it as far as he could before running the sword into what seemed like the dragon's shoulder. Upon returning to the ground, he dodged the kick that had been aimed for him, and slashed again at the scales.

The dragon opened its mouth a roared in anger at Tamlen's onslaught. Its jaws were open just long enough for Ayale to roll out of them, and dropped to the floor. He watched her hit the ground running and bolted to the safety of behind his shield, and saw the terrified look in her eyes.

"I've dropped my weapons!" she cried.

Tamlen didn't have a chance to respond, for the dragon lunged at the two Dalish, forcing them to sprint off to a side. Moments later, they joined Alistair's side. The two warriors kept the unarmed she-elf safe behind both shields.

"Are you alright?" the templar yelled to them, not once taking his eyes off the dragon.

"I dropped my weapons," Ayale repeated, her voice much calmer than before.

"Can you see them?" Alistair inquired.

"Yes," she replied after a moment. "They're in the open, I can get them."

"Keep back, lethallan," Tamlen ordered, catching Alistair's side glance towards him. "We'll distract it so you can get round it and pick up your blades."

"Ma nuvenin," his clanmate nodded in agreement.

Tamlen looked over to the shemlen. While Alistair's face was schooled into a neutral expression, his eyes showed the apprehension that he was really feeling.

Then, in almost perfect synchrony, the trio spilt up. Ayale darted to the dragon's right side to retrieve her weapons. Meanwhile, Tamlen and Alistair ran further into the beast's field of vision, both holding the most aggressive stances they knew.

The dragon turned to the two warriors, hatred seething in its gaze. It reared up onto its hind legs and then dropped back down, making the ground shake so badly that they both lost their balance. As he fell to the ground, Tamlen was certain that he saw Ayale stumble slightly as she reached her blades.

The dragon then struck out a scaly claw and brought it down heavily, aiming for the two downed men. Seeing the claw, Tamlen hurriedly rolled to a side, and felt the ground shake as it hit the ground. He raised a head to see that it had securely pinned the shemlen templar.

The only thing of Alistair showing from beneath the dragon's claw was his head, his neck and a small portion of his shield. It took Tamlen a moment to realise that the edge of the shemlen's shield was digging into his throat. The templar was already turning a worrying shade of pale blue.

Turning his attention back to his sword, he adjusted his grip on it so that he held it pointing away from his face. Then, raising himself onto his elbow, he hoisted the sword above his head and, using all his strength, brought it down, stabbing through the scales and embedded the blade in the foot.

The dragon screamed at the surprise attack, recoiling slightly. As soon as the claw was raised, Tamlen, with the aid of Zevran, pulled Alistair away from the fight scene. Once the shemlen was a safe distance, the two elves stood to return to the fight.

It was then that Tamlen realised that the dragon was writhing incessantly, looking around its hind legs. He could easily see it fury at being unable to find the irritation that was pestering it. He only managed to see his clanmate for a split-second before she disappeared again, easily dodging a kick from the dragon.

"It can't hurt you if it can't see you," Tamlen whispered, feeling awe-inspired as the realisation hit him.

He scrambled away from the fight to where Leliana was standing, and had been standing whilst steadily emptying her quiver. He tore his shield off his arm, his sword stuck in the dragon's foot and unlikely to move for a while, and picked up his bow off the ground. He pulled out an arrow from his quiver, and stood in line with Leliana.

"Go for the eyes!" he ordered, focusing on his aim.

The duo fired at the same time, and both arrows hit their mark. They had aimed for different eyes, and while the shafts broke as soon as the dragon blinked, the damage was done and the splintered wood obviously tore at the dragon's eyelids, for it screamed again and again, making Tamlen's head ring and spin.

He suddenly saw a small figure dart up the dragon's back, belated realising that it was Ayale. She had her Dar'Misaan in hand and her left hand was free as she sprinted over the moving body as easily as if she were on the forest floor. She half-ran-half climbed up the dragon's neck, using the spines as hand and footholds. She finally grabbed the long horns that were at the nape of the dragon's neck.

With her Dar'Misaan in hand, she drove her weapon onto the flat of the dragon's skull, which it seemingly bounced off without causing any damage. After pausing to keep her hold on the dragon as it flung its head around in an attempt to dislodge her, she changed her grip and plunged her weapon deep into the dragon's left eye, again and again and again. The beast screamed in pain and raised a claw to swat Ayale off it, but hopelessly missed her. Moments later, she stabbed at the remaining eye, completely blinding the creature. She released her hold of the dragon's horn and slid down its neck, onto its back. She stood up and jumped off the shoulder.

"Sten, now!" she yelled, landing moments later and running away from the beast as quickly as she could.

Sten took her place in front of the colossal creature, his greatsword behind him. Then, with a speed and strength that Tamlen hadn't believed possible with such a large weapon, he swung the sword at the beast's throat, slicing through the scales, skin and internal obstacles and causing massive damage. Blood gushed from the wound, flooding the ground and spraying the qunari.

The dragon's scream gurgled from its blood filled throat as it crashed to the floor, barely missing Sten as he stepped back by one pace. He raised his sword above his head, its tip pointed at the flat of the skull. And then, he drove it through the scales, skin, bone and into the dragon's brain.

The wings stiffened and the fell gracelessly to the ground. Moments later, Sten pulled his sword out of the now lifeless dragon.

* * *

Author's note: Okay, I had to go through my entire story because I suddenly realised that I'd misspelt "ma serannas". So, I had to go through all my chapters and correct them. *sigh* What a headache.

Elven translations (my words in _italics_)

Abelas –Sorrow (also used in apologises)

_Ay'irdir_ –Help us

Cha hahra –By the gods

Da'len –Child(ren)

Dareth shiral –Safe journey

Elvhen –The people

_Hahra... franan ee'ya_ –Gods... watch over her today.

_Hahra nal'shyn_ –Gods protect us

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (Female)

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Mythal _nal'shay_ –Mythal protect her

_Papae_ –Father

Shah –No

Shemlen –Human

_Shyie'dya_ –elven curse (You can decide how colourful it is)

_Ty'nan_ –True/You're right


	19. Healing Ashes

No one moved for several moments, all waiting fearfully encase the dragon suddenly rose up to continue the fight. After several breaths in the now silent mountaintop, everyone relaxed and returned their weapons to their sheathes or hooks. Relieved glances were passed around abundantly.

Ayale could feel her entire body shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion. After all the chaos and noise of battle, the stillness and the quiet made her head spin and her ears buzz. While the urge to do nothing more than collapse into a heap, not caring what she landed on, was great, she knew that tasks had to be done.

Reluctantly, she forced her trembling legs to carry her back to the rest of the group. She casually looked down to her weapon, still in her hand, and examined the broken blade. Her Dar'Misaan had snapped the last time she had driven it into the dragon's eye, and all she had left now was the hilt and a thumb's length of metal.

"Lethallan," Tamlen's voice broke through her reverie, making her look up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"Me?" Tamlen asked incredulously. "I'm fine. But you, that... **thing** had you in its mouth. It... Are you sure you're alright?"

"It wasn't holding me very tightly," Ayale explained reassuringly. "My armour has a few tooth marks in it now, that's all, and I'm covered in dragon saliva –among other things."

The dragon's saliva was covering most of her armour and stomach, but she could see the layers of dragon blood and gore that clung to almost every part of her like a second skin. She could tell that she looked a mess, and was greatly anticipating what was going to be a very long bath.

"Well," she continued after a moment's pause, staring down at her broken Dar'Misaan. "I guess I won't be needing this anymore."

Without any further comment, she flung the hilt away from her and Tamlen. The pair of them watched it sail away in the air before hitting the ground, rolling down the incline and into the lake. The ripples stretched out, unhindered before disappearing out of sight.

The two then walked back to where everyone else had gathered. Wynne and Leliana were kneeling beside the still downed Alistair. The shemlen was very pale and there was a large gash across his throat, from where the edge of his shield had dug into his neck. From the rasping breaths, Ayale guessed that there was internal damage as well.

"Hahren?" Ayale asked uncertainly.

Wynne rose and joined Ayale's side. They walked away slightly so that Alistair, in his semi-conscious state, didn't hear them.

"The injury to his throat is easy enough to heal," Wynne reported in a quiet voice. "His left arm is broken, though, it won't be easy getting his shield off without causing him more pain. And, his chest looks compressed so, even without examining him properly, I think he has several broken ribs. The good news is, I don't think he has any internal injuries. Once I heal his ribs, he should be back to breathing normally."

Ayale nodded solemnly. She had seen the dragon pin Alistair down with his claw, and she had seen how narrowly it had missed Tamlen. She wasn't sure if she wanted to admit how much her insides had twisted at that moment, before Tamlen had stabbed at the dragon's foot.

"How, uh..." Ayale cleared her throat, shaking her mind out of the past in process. "How long will healing him take?"

"His throat and ribs I can heal within a few hours, but I would rather his arm heal relatively naturally," the mage replied. "While magic would easily heal the break, his bones will strengthen themselves if they healed naturally, making them less likely to break in those places in future. I will, of course, encourage the process, but I'm afraid Alistair will be confined to camp for a while."

"Ma nuvenin hahren," Ayale agreed, before looking around suspiciously. "Where's Morrigan?"

She hadn't seen the apostate since early in the fight, then the woman had disappeared and she hadn't seen her since. While she didn't want to think that Morrigan had abandoned them in the middle of battle, she had to accept it as a possibility. There was also the chance that the woman was hurt, and if it great enough for the apostate to not re-enter the battle, then it was a grave injury.

"I think she was thrown into one of those pillars, lethallan," Tamlen answered, pointing to archways that lead to the caverns.

"Right, Tamlen, would come with me, just in case she is injured?" Ayale asked.

"Of course," he nodded his head.

"I'll stay and tend to Alistair," Wynne announced. "If Morrigan is injured, I will see to her injuries as well."

The trio broke up, Wynne returning to Alistair's side, talking to Leliana about them carefully removing Alistair's shield, and Ayale and Tamlen started making their way to the columns. As she walked, the she-elf caught sight of Sten and Zevran standing idly.

"Sten, Zevran," she called. "I want you two to examine the dragon. See what caused, and can cause, what damage, where the weak spots are, and anything else that could prove to be a strategy for killing it."

The two men looked at each other, each as perplexed as the other, but they nodded and set to performing their task. It was several seconds later before Zevran turned round to Ayale's call.

"With a dragon this size, I'd guess it met some unfortunate travellers in its time," Ayale noted. "You will let me know if you find anything, won't you?"

Zevran pulled a dramatically hurt face at the suggestion that he would do otherwise. But, after Ayale raised an eyebrow at him, he smiled wickedly before calmly nodding his head in assertion. He then turned round and raced after Sten.

"Why did you ask them to do that, lethallan?" Tamlen asked quietly as they continued walking.

"One: to give them something to do," Ayale explained. "And two: the archdemon's a dragon, right? If we can learn how best to kill dragons from this one, we'll be better prepared when we face it."

"Ah, good idea," Tamlen concurred.

"You know... for a moment... I actually thought it was the archdemon," Ayale admitted. "It's a good thing you showed up when you did."

Tamlen didn't answer her, and when she turned her head, she saw that he was frowning slightly. She didn't know what the reason was for Tamlen's frown, but she knew that she'd been the cause, her and her comment about the archdemon. She silently cursed herself for being so thoughtless.

"Abelas, Tamlen," she whispered shamefully. "That was insensitive of me to say."

"If only it would be that easy though," Tamlen countered, his voice full of a forced lightness. "The end of the Blight, just like that?"

Ayale smiled at him, watching him smile back at her. She didn't speak again, fearing for mentioning something she shouldn't. She wondered sadly where the easy atmosphere between the two of them had gone, which allowed them to talk to each other about everything and nothing. She instantly knew the answer and found that it left a sour, bitter taste in the back of her mouth.

They had walked halfway up the carved stone incline before Ayale saw something in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and her gaze fell upon a motionless figure. She felt fear grip her heart and turned her to ice.

"Morrigan!" she shrieked, bolting to the apostate's side.

She didn't have to examine the witch to see how badly she was injured. The rocks around the woman were black from drying blood, blood that was still flowing out of a serious gash from the back of Morrigan's head, and a smaller wound that was on her forehead.

Ayale turned back to Tamlen, knowing that she didn't need to say anything to him. She watched her clanmate sprint back to the others for a while, before returning her attention to her seriously injured companion.

* * *

"Hahren!"

Tamlen's voice made Leliana look up, the look on the elf's face made her stomach clench sickeningly. Without a word, she watched Wynne stand. The mage gave her a pointed look, telling her to continue carefully without her, and then gestured to Tamlen to lead the way. The elf vanished from sight and Wynne left at a considerably slower pace.

Leliana allowed herself a moment to wonder how Tamlen, who had had a mere week to recover from three months of starvation and blight, could have so much energy and stamina. Then, she remembered how Ayale always seemed tireless and decided to put the ability down to their Dalish upbringing.

She shook her head and returned to the task at hand: removing Alistair's shield from his broken arm. As she looked down at the barely conscious man, she realised with a jolt that he was focusing on her. His dark brown eyes were glazed with pain, but he was definitely looking at her.

"Did we win?" he asked quietly, his shield obviously inhibiting his ability to speak loudly.

"Yes, the dragon is dead," Leliana stated, watching his face relax with relief. "I need to get your shield off."

Alistair blinked slowly and, after taking a couple of laboured breaths, nodded slightly. He smiled weakly at her, showing his good natured side despite his injuries, or perhaps because of it, she wasn't sure. His face then tautened as he braced himself for the pain that was inevitably coming.

Carefully, Leliana gently lifted off his chest. She almost dropped it, surprised at the sheer weight of the thing. She thought it probably weighed at least a bag of flour –a large, baker's bag of flour– and yet he had held it as if it was no heavier than a barrel lid.

She paused when she heard Alistair hiss slightly, as his arm was raised with the shield, but he already seemed to be breathing easier. She inched forward slightly so she could rest an edge of the shield on her lap, and free one of the hands that had been holding it up. With a now free arm, she reached under the shield and fumbled blindly to loosen the forearm straps. She bit back a curse when she realised that there was nothing to loosen the straps, and that she would have to pull the shield off him.

She carefully pulled off his splintmail gauntlet, relieved beyond belief when he didn't appear to be in any pain. Then, painfully slowly, she eased the shield up his arm, checking that the straps didn't get caught on anything or jerk slightly. Once the first strap was removed, pulling the second off was much easier, it being slightly longer to accommodate the larger, more muscular part of his forearm. She laid his arm back down across his chest as lightly as she could, placing his shield to a side.

"How's that?" she asked with a meagre smile, trying to keep her voice light.

"I think my bruises have bruises," Alistair croaked, smiling.

Leliana smiled more easily. If he felt well enough to crack a joke, then she knew he was going to be fine. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed slightly, rubbing a thumb across his fingers. Her lips twitched upwards slightly when she felt him squeeze back.

"How's Ayale?" he asked suddenly. "Is she okay?"

"She's... she's fine," she assured.

"Good," Alistair murmured. "The way the dragon had her in its mouth... I was worried."

Leliana felt as though ice had slid down her back as she realised what he was talking about. Terrifying images of the tiny woman being flung about flashed in her eyes. The way the she-elf had fought and how she had behaved after the battle, she'd completely forgotten about their leader's frighteningly close brush with death.

It was no wonder Alistair was worried. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't stop feeling that she should be concerned as well.

A shout echoed quietly around the mountaintop, making Leliana look up. She saw Sten hastily make his way to where everyone was gathering around Morrigan. Then, everyone dispersed, and Wynne and Ayale were leading Sten back over to where she and Alistair were. Morrigan looked like a child, dwarfed in the qunari's arms. Whatever was wrong with the apostate, it was severe.

"What's wrong?" Alistair queried, frowning slightly to mirror her.

"I think Morrigan's been badly hurt," she replied truthfully. "She was thrown into a pillar pretty hard. Sten's carrying her over here."

"Great," Alistair muttered darkly.

Leliana stared at him in surprise, unsure of what the cause of his bad mood was. It was no secret that the templar and the apostate were frequently at odds with one another, but this seemed to be more than that.

She didn't have a chance to question him, as Wynne suddenly called out to her, explaining that they had a lot of work to do. Leliana sighed and nodded to the Circle mage understandingly.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

They didn't move for the rest of the day. Ayale, Tamlen, Sten and Zevran had returned to pack up camp and move all their belongings up to the mountain top, while Wynne and Leliana had stayed to tend to Alistair and Morrigan.

By the time the camp had been set up, Alistair's throat and ribs were healed, his shield arm in a splint and sling, while Morrigan had the majority of her head in bandages to aid the healing of her twice cracked skull. Wynne, though exhausted, took to checking over Ayale, Tamlen and Sten, as they were the only others in close combat with the high dragon.

Amazingly, to Tamlen's relief, Ayale had escaped with nothing more than a few bruises, confirming her earlier assertion that she hadn't been held very tightly. He had a small cut on his face from rolling over his sword, which was promptly smeared with a health poultice. Sten, however, had a wrenched arm, which he had kept quiet about until Alistair and Morrigan had been taken care of.

With the medical crisis over, Leliana persuaded Ayale to go with her to a nearby stream to bathe and for Ayale to finally remove the dried dragon gore off herself. Within a couple of minutes, there were quiet yelps and Ayale cursing in Elvish the temperature of the water, or lack thereof. Moments later, there was quiet giggling from the shemlen bard, and then from his clanmate.

It was fifteen agonising minutes for Tamlen. He could sense an echo of the mirth that Ayale was feeling, and the gasps and giggling that penetrated the silence every few seconds made him want to go over and find out just what those two were finding so damn funny. Then he realised that doing so would mean that he would have to see two naked women... two naked women who were bathing.

Just the notion of seeing Ayale dripping wet without any clothes on, he made himself think through every lesson Hahren Paivel had ever taught him. He recited ever word from the older elf's lectures in his head, over and over again like a litany. Whenever feminine voices had come floating from the stream, he forced himself to focus harder.

And then, the sounds of Leliana laughing got closer, signalling that the bath was over, much to Tamlen's relief.

"I think it's a good look, Ayale," Leliana stated between giggles. "It's really different from the crisp and tidy look. It makes you look a little younger, and much less severe."

"Leliana," Ayale's voice was filled with such tension Tamlen was shocked to have not noticed it earlier. "I look like I've been dragged through a bush backwards, or that I've been accidently hit with a lightning spell, or both!"

When Tamlen turned round, he struggled not to laugh. He had noticed that his clanmate's hair was longer than she'd ever allowed whilst travelling with the clan earlier, and he suddenly felt that he knew why she'd kept it so short.

Her hair flicked out in practically every direction, making her hair look two or three times larger than it actually was. It was certainly a difference to seeing her hair combed to lie neatly on her head.

She sat down next to him moodily, and then pulled out her Dar'Misu with the intention of trimming her now unruly hair. Leliana vehemently protested, exclaiming that the dagger was too large and that Ayale would cut her hair to different lengths as a result. The bard firmly assured her that the look would be atrocious, and that scissors should be used if she was determined to cut her hair.

"Well, do you have a pair of scissors?" Ayale countered.

"Umm, well... no I don't," Leliana admitted, shamefaced. "But I'm sure you could buy a pair when we get back to Redcliff! I could help you find a lovely pair that would be perfect for cutting hair, I'm sure of it!"

"If you didn't have a pair of scissors," Alistair called from the area of camp that had been declared the infirmary, a surprisingly thoughtful look gracing the shemlen's face. "Then how did you keep your hair so short?"

"Ashalle had a knife," Ayale replied without needing to think. "I think she bought it off a shemlen who used it to cut vellum and break seals, but she used it to cut my and her hair. It was tiny, no longer than my index finger, and just as slim, with a handle that wasn't even half the length. The blade was a deep jade –at least I think that's what she said it was, and the handle was made of yew. There was a pattern of leaves engraved on the handle, too. It was so beautiful."

Ayale closed her eyes and smiled. Tamlen could tell that she was remembering every detail she possibly could of that tiny knife. And then, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"What about you, Tamlen?" she posed. "Didn't your mamae have a knife or something similar to cut your hair?"

"Yeah, but it was a piece of sharpened slate with a plain, elm handle," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It was nothing special."

He saw Ayale's smile turned sad slightly before she focused on Leliana. The bard was talking about using ribbons to braid into his clanmate's hair, which the she-elf was playfully protesting. The good-natured banter then became a challenge and a race, with the two women darting around, the shemlen chasing with ribbons, and his clanmate fleeing.

Settling down in his position by the fire, he prepared himself for what was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

The fire crackled in crisp night air as Ayale turned the amulet over and over in her hands. She studied the archaic symbol of Andraste that lay on one side, rubbing a thumb over the indentation, and the mirror perfection that lay on the other. She started when a reflection that was not her own appeared, and she promptly put the necklace into her lap.

It took several minutes before she dared look at it again.

"Thinking of giving that to Leliana?" Tamlen asked, appearing over her shoulder.

Ayale jumped at his unexpected closeness, cursing herself for not hearing his approach. She saw her clanmate smile smugly, obviously pleased that he'd finally managed to sneak up on her.

"Actually," Ayale began, watching Tamlen sit down beside her. "It was a gift to me."

She pretended not to notice when he stiffened, and she ignored his indignant glare about camp as he tried to identify the gift giver. She wasn't surprised by his reaction. They were, after all, Dalish and did not believe in the Maker or Andraste, and she'd been given a very old Chantry amulet. It was something that would be taken as an insult.

"It was in the Gauntlet, where we found the Sacred Ashes," she explained. "Before we were allowed in, we met the Guardian and he said we had to go through a few tests. At the very start, he asked us one question each."

"What did he ask?" Tamlen inquired curiously.

"He asked Alistair if he wished he had been with Duncan at Ostagar, which he did. Sten was asked if he regretted killing the farmer and his family, which he did. And Morrigan... she didn't let him ask the question," Ayale stated.

"And what did he ask you?" Tamlen queried, his tone cautious.

"Me? Uh... he asked me... uh," Ayale stalled slightly. "He asked me if... if I thought... if I believed I'd honoured our clan with my actions and choices."

"Huh," her clanmate uttered, his tone unconvinced by obviously not intending to pry. "I hope you told him yes."

"I... I said I didn't know," she admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know. And then later, when we were in the Gauntlet, I saw a spectre of someone."

"A spectre?" Tamlen asked in alarm.

"It was part of the Gauntlet, I think," Ayale explained. "They gave me the amulet. They told me not to doubt myself and that I shouldn't be afraid of answering the truth."

"Good advice," he assured her.

"I guess so," Ayale agreed reluctantly, standing up. "I'm going to check on the perimeter."

She left Tamlen sitting on his own, and she prayed that she was keeping her emotions to herself. She needed to walk away, she needed to think everything through, and she needed to figure out how to solve the fix she'd put herself in.

It was then that she noticed Alistair leaning beside his tent. She hesitated slightly when she realised that he was watching her intently, before waking her way over to him. Obviously he wanted to have words, and she had the feeling it was best that they speak now than in the morning.

"You know," he started once she'd reached him. "I'm sure that's not what the Guardian asked you. I could swear it was more like why-"

"Another word, Alistair, and it will be your last," she warned darkly.

"Alright alright," he agreed hastily, trying to appease her. "I'm just saying. I don't think he believed you."

"I know," the she-elf admitted sadly. "I just... I don't know how to tell him the truth."

"He really means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Alistair asked softly. "You're terrified of making a wrong move."

"Isn't everyone?" she asked rhetorically.

* * *

"Ow," Alistair moaned, frowning at his bandaged arm.

"What?" Wynne asked irritably, eyeing him crossly. "Stop fussing with it. You'll make it worse."

"It itches," the templar whined.

"Yes, it's healing," the mage stated in exasperation. "Don't touch it."

"But it's distracting. Can I rub it through the bandage?" he asked hopefully. "That's not really scratching."

"Alistair, if you open that wound up, I'm not going to heal it again," she warned. "You can just treat it yourself. And if it festers, weeping bloody pus and burns like the flames of Andraste's pyre, don't come to me. All I'm going to say is: _Alistair, didn't I tell you not to touch it?_"

"It won't really fester, will it?" Alistair asked worriedly.

"Why don't you try scratching and see?" Wynne offered sarcastically.

"I... uh, I guess it doesn't itch so much now," he muttered quietly.

At the front of the group, Ayale turned to Tamlen and the pair of them shared an amused smile before returning their attention to the road. They had finally rejoined The Imperial Highway not long after noon and were making good time to reach Redcliff.

Then, a shemlen structure appeared on the lake's cliff, and Ayale looked over her shoulder to look at everyone.

"I can see Redcliff Castle!" she called. "We should be there in a couple of hours."

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone. Immediately, everyone was talking about what they looking forward to most.

"A proper bath," Leliana sighed wistfully.

"A proper bed," Wynne added.

"A decent meal," Alistair continued.

"And a roof over our heads," Tamlen mutter unenthusiastically. "I can't wait until we search for our kin."

"We have to heal Arl Eamon first," Ayale reminded him. "But it shouldn't take more than a couple of days at most, and then we'll be on our way."

"Still, the idea of sleeping within a Dalish camp," her clanmate pressed eagerly. "That's something I'm looking forward to."

"Me too, Tamlen," she chuckled. "Me too."

* * *

Teagan had been overjoyed to see everyone and was ecstatic when Ayale produced the pouch of Sacred Ashes. The shemlen had taken the pouch with a word of thanks and then bolted upstairs.

An hour later and Tamlen was getting bored.

Wynne had taken all injured members upstairs to the guest rooms where they could rest and recuperate. Leliana had wondered off, talking about hot water and soap, and Zevran...

He didn't want to guess what the flat ear was doing.

Ayale was lying on her back on one of the large wooden benches, staring up at the ceiling. With the fixed looked on her face, he guessed that she was as unnerved by it as he was. Though, unlike her, he wasn't constantly staring at it, not that he didn't glance up every once in awhile to check that it hadn't moved.

His clanmate suddenly perked up at the sound of footsteps coming downstairs. She rolled off the bench and stood up. She swayed slightly as the blood rushed from her head, but she straightened up in time for Teagan to appear, a wide smile on his face that brought one to grace Ayale's face for a moment.

"Has he been told?" she asked quietly.

"Yes..." Teagan's smile dropped. "It's... it's a lot for him to take in at once. He's going to be thinking all night, so why don't you take one of the guest bedrooms and make yourself comfortable. He'll talk to you in the morning."

"Ma nuvenin, Bann Teagan," Ayale nodded her head.

Teagan frowned slightly, not understanding her Elvish tongue, but then smile and, with a shrug of his shoulders, went back upstairs. When the shemlen was gone, Ayale turned to Tamlen.

"We'd better see if we can get some rest," she suggested.

"Rest... under a ceiling... unlikely," Tamlen muttered uneasily.

"Try anyway," she beseeched, making her way to the stairs. "Daln ee'yo, Tam."

"Daln ee'yo, lethallan."

* * *

Author's note: I've gotten my place in university, people! I'm going in October, and I don't know how that's going to impact my time for writing, so I'm just giving a forewarning. I will try to update as much as I can before that, I promise.

Elven translations (my words in _italics_)

Abelas –Sorrow (also used in apologies)

_Daln ee'yo_ –Good night

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (female)

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Mamae –Mother

Shemlen –Human


	20. Bonding Gifts

Ayale tossed and turned. She had given up trying to sleep in the four poster bed with its overly soft mattress, and had moved the bedding to the floor. However, the looming ceiling above her head still kept her awake.

She knew that it shouldn't bother her. The aravel that she had slept in with Ashalle had had a roof, but it had been nothing more than a few layers of cloth. The thought of being under a stone ceiling was utterly terrifying for the she-elf. And, try as she might, she found that she couldn't get to sleep.

She cursed quietly and kicked the covers off. She had taken to sleeping in her Dalish hunting armour, as she often did, so she merely put on and laced up her boots and pulled her gloves on. Once she was fully dressed, she left the guest room and went downstairs.

She wondered about for a while before finding herself in the kitchen larder. Feeling the hunger side of being a Grey Warden rear its head, she took a cold platter of dried meats, bread, biscuits and fruit, and looked for somewhere to sit quietly and eat.

She caught sight of a lone candle on a table and realised with a smile that Tamlen had also raided Arl Eamon's larder. She silently walked up to the table before coughing quietly to make her presence known. She giggled slightly when Tamlen jumped at her appearance.

"May I join you?" she asked sweetly.

Tamlen flustered about slightly before moving his own plate over and scooting across so she could sit comfortably beside him. She curled up on the seat, bringing her legs up off the floor. One leg, she laid as half crossed, and she brought the knee of other up to her chest, which she hugged slightly and laid her chin on.

"Couldn't sleep?" Tamlen asked rhetorically.

"Shah, ma?" she replied, popping a slice of dried meat into her mouth.

"Shah," he replied honestly. "I can't understand how shemlen can stand the idea of sleeping under a stone ceiling."

"I'm sure our ways seem just as strange to them," she reminded him gently. "We just have to put up with this for another day or so and then we'll be in the Brecillian Forest with our kin."

Tamlen seemed to relax at that thought and, after fidgeting slightly, eased himself into a comfortable position beside her. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, quietly emptying their plates at a leisurely pace, having grown accustomed to the ravenous hunger that being a Grey Warden entailed.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Ayale asked, pinching a piece of cheese off Tamlen's plate.

"Shah," her clanmate replied, nabbing a slice of fruit off her plate in retaliation. "What does this remind you of?"

"The harvest celebration when we seven –well, I was seven, you were eight," she explained. "We'd only been friends for a couple of months."

"What about it?" he queried curiously, clearly only able to vaguely remember it.

"Remember one day, we didn't fast during the day as we were meant to?" she continued, trying to jog his memory. "I stole a couple of sweetcakes that Ashalle had been cooking for the night's feast. I gave one to you and we ate them behind Keeper's aravel."

Tamlen laughed quietly as he recalled the event. He stared off into space as the day obviously replayed itself in his mind. A mischievous smile graced his lips.

"They were still warm," he recalled smugly. "I swear: that was the best sweetcake I ever had."

"It's a shame we got caught," Ayale sighed wistfully.

"Yeah... I didn't sit down for the rest of the day," Tamlen stated, wincing at the memory. "Still, it was worth it though."

"Same here," Ayale agreed, her smile widened slightly. "Though, you got your ass whacked twice. First time was for eating the sweetcake, and the second was for starting a fight with Fenarel."

"He shouldn't have tried to pick a fight with you," Tamlen objected. "I only hit him because he wouldn't shut up about you stealing the cakes."

"You always got into fights with him and Junar, all because of me," Ayale noted sadly. "You always protected me from them."

"Of course. You know I'd do anything for you," he assured her instantly. "And besides, you were always protecting me from Keeper's wrath. She's got something of a soft spot for you, and you could always get me out of the worst punishments."

"What are friends for, if not getting each other out of trouble?" she posed rhetorically, earning a smile from her clanmate.

They lapsed into silence once again, finishing off their midnight meals. They occasionally pilfered from each others' plate, exchanging smirks and raised eyebrows at every occurrence. Soon enough, both plates were empty, and the two Dalish elves sat quietly beside one another.

Ayale raised a hand to her mouth, covering it as she yawned. She noticed Tamlen smirking beside her, and she turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Still protecting your soul from Fen'Harel?" he teased.

Ayale elbowed her clanmate in retaliation, and turned away so he wouldn't see the embarrassed grimace on her face.

She had only been eight years old when Junar and Fenarel had told her that the Dread Wolf snuck around their camp, waiting for daydreaming elvhen to open their mouths and give him the chance to steal their souls. Their tale had terrified her and she'd kept a hand over her mouth for the best part of a month, and had hardly slept. Finally, Tamlen had told her that while they were awake, they were watchful enough to protect themselves, and that their spirits played games with the hahra while they slept.

She still put a hand over her mouth when she yawned... just in case.

"Abelas, lethallan," Tamlen apologised, his tone heart-breaking in its sincerity.

"Shah," Ayale shook her head as she turned back to him, her smile perhaps a little forced. "I shouldn't let that silly little thing bother me after all these years, least of all by you."

However, Tamlen didn't look convinced, a guilty expression still firmly planted on his face. He looked away from her and stared at the candle, which was nearing the end of its life.

Ayale said nothing for a moment. She watched him avoid her gaze as she thought desperately for something to say. Words evaded her, and she found that she had to stifle another yawn. As she realised how heavy her eyes felt, an idea came to her.

She shifted her position slightly so that her right arm brushed against his left. Then, she laid the side of her head on his shoulder. She suppressed a smile when she saw him glance at her before returning his attention to the dying candle. To her relief, he didn't flinch or try to push her away.

"Hey Tamlen?" she called quietly. "Would you do me a favour?"

"What?" he asked curiously.

"Would you keep an eye out for Fen'Harel for me?" she replied. "It would make me feel... safe."

She started to worry when she didn't hear Tamlen reply. She was about to look up to his face when a light weight pressed onto the top of her skull. She smiled tiredly, forcing her eyes to stay open as she waited for his reply.

"Only if you watch out for him for me, too," he countered, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Of course," she agreed. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She finally allowed herself to succumb to the pulling desire of sleep, and let her soul drift away to the Beyond. She didn't hear any response that Tamlen might have made, nor did she feel the weight of his head increase slightly as he, too, fell asleep.

Neither of them woke when the candle finally sputtered out, leaving them in darkness. They didn't wake when Alistair came down a couple of hours later to raid the larder as they had. They didn't stir when his candle revealed them, heads together and sleeping peacefully. They didn't rouse when the shemlen made an exaggerated silent departure, sneaking away on tiptoes.

* * *

Breakfast was... interesting, to say the least.

Tamlen had never sat at a shemlen table before, and the fact that he was being served by flat-eared, city elves made the whole thing all the more surreal. The only comfort was that he could feel Ayale's own discomfort through the taint and knew that, just like him, she would probably rather be outside eating something they'd just hunted.

Arl Eamon sat at the head of the table. His brother sitting on one side of him, while his wife and son sat on the other side. In what was obviously a politically diplomatic move, Tamlen and Ayale were sitting high up the table, on Teagan's side of the table, while Alistair, Leliana and Wynne sat on Isolde's side. The shemlen Warden was sitting uncomfortably next to Arlessa, and she looked equally uneasy. Zevran and Sten were further down the table, and Morrigan was sitting at the end, glaring at the servants that dared come within three metres of her.

Tamlen stared down at the plate before him and tried to find something that he could vaguely recognise, other than the bread roll. Some of it was meat, of that he was certain. He was clueless to what the odd pale-yellow, semi-solid stuff was, though it looked like some mutated relative of porridge. He felt slightly thrilled to realise that he saw a tomato on his plate, although, what the cook had done to it, he didn't want to think.

As everyone started to eat, Tamlen snuck a glance to his clanmate, and she returned the glance with a slight nod. Then, they both reached out and picked up their bread roll and tore it into two. Beside him, Ayale quietly muttered her thanks to the hahra for the bounty of food that she had received and appreciated it for all the times when food had not been so plentiful. While she had always spoken her thanks quietly, he knew it was also so that she didn't disturb the shemlen around them, which had failed spectacularly.

Leliana, being Leliana, had taken a profound interest, as she always did, and stared like an awe-struck da'len. Wynne was observing the tradition, casually, interestedly but respectfully, as was Alistair. Sten and Zevran weren't paying attention, and Morrigan was too far away to know or care. Eamon, Teagan, Connor and Isolde were also watching, the men were intrigued, if their expressions were anything to go by, but Isolde's look was almost scathing. She quickly looked away once she caught Tamlen's eye.

After muttering his own words of thanks, he tucked in to the breakfast, eating slowly in an attempt to figure out what he was eating. He could see his clanmate doing the same, though she seemed slightly more confident with the meal, and was looking around. When she suddenly stopped mid-chew and smiled, Tamlen looked across the table to see what had caught her attention: Alistair.

Since the templar's arm was bandaged and tied up in a sling, he was struggling to cut his breakfast up. Leliana was sitting beside Alistair, and she was leaning over him to cut his food up into bite sized chunks for him. What was obviously not apparent to either shemlen was how red the pair of them were, or how they were both struggling not to smile.

"Do nothing," Tamlen ordered knowingly as he leant over to Ayale and whispered in her ear.

"It's not like I'd be adding spark," Ayale noted, her body trembling as she tried not to giggle, her mirth and mischief echoing very quietly through the taint.

"Shah lethallan," Tamlen insisted.

Ayale moved away slightly to give him her usual defiant look. She then toned the look down before giving up and continuing with her breakfast.

He wasn't convinced.

* * *

Ayale bounded up the steps from Redcliffe Village, quickly approaching the windmill. She had been visiting the blacksmith, Owen, to check in on the now-sober man and his daughter. The reward was not something she had expected, and she had been too stunned to decline.

She turned back to watch Alistair and Tamlen slowly make their way up to join her. She'd convinced Wynne to let the templar to come out and walk around Redcliffe for fresh air, exercise and a moral boost, the last Wynne thankfully didn't ask about. Her clanmate had joined the excursion to keep an eye on her, of that she was certain.

"This place is truly amazing," Ayale called to the two men, her cheery voice making Tamlen raise an eyebrow at her.

"See?" Alistair preened. "I told Redcliffe was something special."

The she-elf hummed in agreement, looking over the small village. Then her eyes caught sight of a splash of white beneath a nearby tree, and she inhaled audibly. She smiled deviously.

"Wow," she gasped dramatically. "Hey Alistair, do you know what those flowers are called?"

"Umm... Andraste's Grace, I think," Alistair stated after staring at the tiny white flowers for a while.

"Really?" Ayale inquired, her voice and emotions carefully hiding the mocking tone from the shemlen. "Aren't those Leliana's favourite flower? I wonder if I should pick them for her."

"Lethallan," Tamlen called warningly, obviously aware of what she was doing.

"But, then again, maybe not," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I just thought she might like them."

Then, without a word, she continued her way up to the Castle. After a while, she turned round to check on her companions. Tamlen was a few steps behind her, scowling at her antics, and further back was Alistair, carefully holding something white in his un-bandaged hand. She turned back around quickly.

She was... fairly certain that she managed to keep her manic glee to herself.

* * *

"Are you sure we're not lost?" Leliana called conversationally, twirling a small bouquet of Andraste's Grace in her hands. "I swear; I don't which way we were going half the time."

"Of course we're not lost," Tamlen exclaimed indignantly, turning round to face the bard whilst walking backwards.

"Tamlen, how many times have tried walking backwards only to trip on something?" Ayale warned.

They had left Redcliffe two days ago to search for the Dalish clan within the Brecillian Forest. As always, Ayale was walking at the front with everyone following her. Tamlen was walking beside her, and was looking more like himself each. Even his more agreeable personality had re-emerged, much to Ayale's relief.

"With lethallan guiding us, there's no way we can get lost," he assured the shemlen, ignoring his clanmate.

"Really?" Leliana queried. "How so?"

"Please Tamlen," the she-elf begged. "Not that discussion again."

"I can't understand how you deny it, lethallan," Tamlen stated in surprise, turning so that he could see where he was walking and only just managing not tripping on a root.

"I'm not denying the concept," she argued. "Just when you apply it to me."

"Come on, lethallan," Tamlen chided gently. "Even Keeper agrees that you're Ghilan'nain's favourite."

"Are you going to explain what you're talking about to the rest of us?" Alistair asked curiously, making the two elves look back to see everyone watching them expectantly.

"Every so often," Ayale began. "When a Dalish receives their vallaslin, they are considered a favourite of the hahra they honour."

"They're called that because the hahra grant them a gift," Tamlen continued. "It's usually something that the elvhen couldn't have earned or developed by themselves."

"There's a Keeper whose clan tends to roam in the Free Marches and the Green Dales," Ayale explained. "Her name's Sindel."

"She took the vallaslin of Andruil," Tamlen stated, taking over the story again. "And as soon as the ceremony was finished, she was gifted with the ability to change her form into a hawk or a hare, the favourite children of Andruil."

"Sure surprised a lot of the Dalish," Ayale noted before chuckling. "One hunter had quite a shock."

"I remember," Tamlen lamented before also chuckling.

"How so?" Leliana asked inquisitively.

"Oh-no," Ayale shook her head. "That tale is theirs alone to tell."

"So, what does this have to do with you, my dear?" Wynne inquired, guiding the elves back to the original question.

"She's the favourite of Ghilan'nain," Tamlen stated factually. "She was the goddess' favourite before she even received her vallaslin."

"Am not, was not, never will be!" the she-elf protested.

"Three years before you underwent the rite, an apprentice hunter went missing," Tamlen recalled. "He was missing for a week, and no one could find him. And then, one morning, you walked up to the hahren and told them that you knew where he was."

"They didn't believe me," Ayale noted sourly. "Not even you."

"No one did, but you still took a bow and Dar'Misu and went out to find him," Tamlen argued. "And I still went with you, didn't I?"

"So what happened?" Leliana asked, steering them from what had signs of becoming an argument.

"She walked out of camp, and found him after walking in a straight line for three hours," Tamlen stated incredulously. "The hahren were shocked to say the least."

"That was pure luck," Ayale argued. "It was the only way that the hunters hadn't looked."

"Oh yeah?" Tamlen challenged teasingly. "How about when Fenarel and Junar tied us up when the clan moved? How were we able to get to the new campsite before the clan did? Or, what about two winters ago, when the Nahashin Marshes of Orlais had frozen over and were hidden under snow? Who managed to get the entire clan past the area without anyone falling through the ice?"

"Really?" Alistair asked incredulously. "You did all that?"

"That's not even half of it," Tamlen assured the templar. "She is Ghilan'nain's favourite, and not just because of her sense of direction."

"Tamlen... please," Ayale pleaded, looking at him imploringly.

Tamlen gazed at her for a moment, before nodding. He didn't speak, but from the look she could tell that he was sorry for carrying on about the subject. She gave him a small smile, forgiving him, which he returned instantly before turning his attention to something he'd clipped to his belt.

After two more hours, the group decided to camp down for the night. Soon, tents had been erected, a cooking fire had been started and the cooking pot was boiling water that would make up the majority of the stew the Leliana was about to make.

Ayale had just returned from collecting firewood for the fire and placed her collection with the pile. As she stood up, she sensed a presence slowly approaching her. She smiled shyly, recognising the individual as Tamlen.

"Uh, lethallan?" her clanmate called quietly.

"Yeah?" she responded mildly, turning to face him.

He didn't reply, but instead held out his hand. In his palm was a tiny knife with a dark green blade and an ash handle, complete with a simple vine pattern engraved in it. She could see that the blade had been sheared to curve slightly like her Dalish blades and the handle was still rough from whittling. Despite its apparent flaws, she couldn't help but feel that it was the most beautiful thing that she'd ever seen.

"I, uh..." Tamlen started nervously. "I found the malachite in the mountaintop near the high dragon. It took a while to find the right kind of wood for the handle. I wasn't too sure if I made it properly, but I thought you wouldn't want your hair to get much longer. I know it's not the jade and yew knife that Ashalle has, but..."

She listened to her clanmate trail off unsurely, but she wasn't listening to his tone. She stared at the tiny knife with only one thought in her mind: Tamlen had made it for her. She slowly reached out and took the gift from her clanmate's hand. She held it up and examined it thoroughly, imprinting every single inch of it into her mind.

When she was finally finished, she looked up at her friend, an awe-struck expression clearly present on her face.

"Ma serannas," she whispered breathlessly. "Tamlen, ma ir serannas."

He smiled in what Ayale could only describe as pleased but embarrassed. He shifted slightly before suddenly being unable to hold her gaze. He mumbled something incoherent –about checking on Torgan?– and he then made a swift departure.

As Ayale watched her clanmate trying not to run, she noticed that Leliana was standing at the pot. The bard was looking extremely pleased with herself, and the she-elf quickly put two and two together.

Holding onto the knife, she calmly walked over to the shemlen. When she was standing five steps away from the woman, she stopped and stared at her. After a moment of almost-tense silence, Ayale shook her head, chuckling, and a smile broke onto her face.

"Even?" she offered, holding out her hand.

"Indeed," Leliana agreed, shaking the she-elf's outstretched hand. "You didn't have to do it, you know."

"Neither did you," Ayale countered.

"Touché," Leliana conceded, chuckling. "But, he just needed..."

"A gentle nudge in the right direction?" Ayale finished.

"If they ever find out... you know what'll happen, don't you?" the bard asked in concern.

"They'll try to kill us, most likely," the she-elf nodded. "Let's try and make sure they never find out."

"Indeed," Leliana agreed whole-heartedly.

After sharing another bout of giggles, the two women parted until the stew was ready and everyone settled in for the night.

* * *

Author's note: Wow, my life has literally been work, work, work. I've been doing so many hours to get as much money for uni as possible, and getting ready for the big move in two weeks time, I've had hardly any time for writing.

Has anyone seen how detailed the Elven language page on the Dragon Age wiki has become? Seriously, it's like a real dictionary! I have made the decision, however, not to go back through all my previous chapters and alter anything. But everything from now on will be as true to what on that page as possible.

Also, I am now posting this chapter at midnight (GMT). So it is now September 20th, and I am now twenty! Happy Birthday me! *ahem*

Disclaimer: Sindel does not belong to me. I have borrowed her from _Shadow of Light_, writer of _'Dragon Age: The Hunt' _and _'Dragon Age: The Kill'_, who has graciously leant her to me for this chapter. Thanks SoL!

Elvish Translations (my words in _italics_)

Abelas –Sorrow (also used in apologises)

Da'len –Child(ren)

Elvhen –The people (Elvish word for themselves)

_Hahra _–God(s)

Lethallan –Friend (Female)

Ma –You

Ma serannas –Thank you

Ma ir serannas –Thank you so much

_Shah _–No

Shemlen –Human(s)


	21. New Confrontations

"Aren't you going to help her?" Leliana asked curiously, nudging her head to a side.

Tamlen raised his attention from what was left of his second helping of breakfast and stared at the shemlen bard in bewilderment. Then, after a moment without a reply, he turned to where the woman had indicated.

Ayale was sitting quietly by herself with a small fire not too far from her. She was fiddling with her hair, trying to cut it with the knife he had given her the previous night. However, she seemed to be struggling to figure out the right length she wanted and how to cut her hair without taking off her fingertips. If she was getting frustrated, he couldn't sense it.

Swallowing the urge to smile proudly at the knowledge that Ayale really was using his poorly crafted knife, he looked back at Leliana, who was watching him expectantly.

"Don't bother Leliana," he stated factually. "After spending thirty years with _her_, do you really think I can't tell when someone is trying to vir shemlath?"

"Vir what?" Leliana asked confusedly.

"Vir shemlath," he repeated. "I believe you'd call it 'playing matchmaker'."

Leliana stared at him in shock, her mouth open slightly. The look in her eyes clearly showed that she hadn't expected him to have figured out her motives, at least so soon. A look of realisation suddenly crossed the woman's face and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" she accused.

"And your point is?" he shot back with a shrug of his shoulders.

"If you knew on the mountaintop what I was doing... why do you still do what I suggested?" she asked.

"It was a good idea," he muttered quietly, and he was certain the shemlen hadn't heard him properly.

"Okay..." Leliana nodded. "Then why aren't you going over to help her?"

"She can cut her hair without my help, Leliana," he sternly informed the persistent woman. "Besides, give her a moment and she'll figure out how best to use the knife."

Sure enough, as Tamlen looked back to his clanmate, he saw that she was swiftly and confidently swiping at her hair and discarding the cut locks into her small fire. He watched her for a while, trying to identify her strategy. It seemed to him that she was using her thumb as a measurement, pinched her hair after that point, and then cut. Needless to say, it was going to take a while for her to finish.

Then, as if feeling his gaze on her, Ayale paused in task and purposefully looked at him. She flashed him a smile before returning to her task.

"She really likes you, you know," Leliana stated factually.

Tamlen turned back to the shemlen, giving her a distinctive look. She seemed to take his silent warning and didn't continue. Instead, she glanced back at Ayale before walking away to join Zevran in the hastily erected duelling ring. The bard was still struggling with two daggers in close combat and the flat-ear had offered to assist.

Tamlen didn't want to know what the assassin wanted in return.

After a moment's peace, he felt the ground rumble slightly. He instantly recognised it as the approaching footsteps of the camp's largest member: the golem, Shale. He had no idea what he'd done to offend the creature, but it was adamant about trying to anger him, and today seemed no different.

"I have a question for the ghoul elf," it stated loudly.

All movement in the camp froze in shock and an uneasy silence fell upon camp. Everyone in the vicinity exchanged glances between Tamlen and Shale, even Morrigan had approached the main camp to witness the conversation. Tamlen had the added bonus of sensing Ayale's shock and anger, which she promptly suppressed from the taint. He noticed the outrage in his clanmate's face and the disapproval in everyone else's expression.

Shale had called him 'ghoul elf' before, though not in front of everyone else and certainly not in front of Ayale. He had ignored the jibe before, but now he didn't have a choice but to respond.

After chewing his lip slightly to rein in his flaring temper at the name, he calmly breathed in and turned around to look at Shale. The golem was staring impassively at him, waiting for a response.

"Is that aimed at me?" he asked rhetorically. "I have a name you know... It's Tamlen."

"Am I correct in saying that the ghoul elf, like the painted elf, has tried to kill the Grey Warden? And yet, it has not been crushed," Shale continued, ignoring Tamlen's remark.

"Under normal circumstances, I would never do anything to harm her. Lethallan knows this," Tamlen noted. "That night, I... wasn't in exactly the right frame of mind."

"Obviously," Shale huffed. "But how is it to know that it won't make such an attempt again?"

Tamlen bit his lip thoughtfully, thinking through everything his clanmate had told him throughout their journey. His mind raced through everything that she had said about the golem, as well as the quips that Alistair or Leliana would occasionally add into their conversations. Then, he found an explanation that he felt the golem would understand.

"You were stuck in a small village, right?" Tamlen inquired calmly. "Unable to move?"

"It is correct," Shale replied. "I was frozen as a statue for thirty years."

"But you can move now," he observed.

"I was freed by use of my control rod," Shale stated.

"What happened to this rod?" Tamlen asked interestedly.

"Why does the ghoul elf ask such things?" Shale demanded irritably. "Surely it knows the answer already, and it does not answer my own question."

"Answer me, and I'll give you the connection," Tamlen assured.

There was a flicker of movement at the edge of Tamlen's eye, but he ignored it. He knew that Ayale was looking at him; he could sense her curiosity through the taint, and her rising amusement. Clearly, she could see where he was leading Shale, and was finding the comparison funny.

"What happened to the rod?" Tamlen repeated.

"It no longer functions," Shale replied tartly.

"And neither does mine," Tamlen explained.

Deciding that he would finish the conversation, he looked back down to the remains of his meal. He refused to look up as Shale walked off, obviously pondering his words. He did not, however, believe that that would be the last conversation between them.

"_Tamlen?"_ Ayale's voice echoed slightly in his mind.

Tamlen looked up in surprise. He saw that she had returned to cutting her hair. However, she was watching him intently, her expression full of concern. Realising that she wanted to talk to him, he stood up and slowly made his way to join her. He sat by her fire, maintaining a small, respectful distance away from her.

"Has Shale called you that before?" she asked calmly, though he could sense her seething outrage.

"Once or twice," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I get the feeling that asking... er, it to change its name for me."

"Doubtful," she conceded. "Shale calls Morrigan 'the swamp witch', Wynne 'the elder mage', Zevran is 'the painted elf'-"

"Interesting that it doesn't called you or I that," Tamlen interrupted.

"I'm 'the Grey Warden' or 'it'," Ayale explained. "Leliana is 'the sister', I think Sten gets called 'qunari' and... I'm not sure what Shale calls Alistair, 'it' I think, and Torgan is 'dog'."

"And I'm 'the ghoul elf'," Tamlen finished with a wry smile. "Interesting."

His clanmate snorted, unimpressed, as she started taking her anger out on her hair. He tried not to wince when she viciously hacked away, narrowly missing her fingers and the tips of her ears in the process.

Worried about the damage she may cause herself, Tamlen stood up and quietly walked over to her. Raising his hand to gently cover her own, he eased the knife out of her grip and securely into his. When she looked up in him in surprised confusion, he smiled at her before setting his free hand to lightly hold her chin and set her head. He struggled not to widen his smile when she turned her head so he could continue for her.

He ignored the self-satisfied smirk from the shemlen bard.

* * *

"Ayale," Wynne called from beside the she-elf. "Are you going to tell me why you and Tamlen haven't eaten anything today?"

Ayale looked up at the sun and fought the urge to sigh. They had packed up camp soon after Tamlen's incident with Shale, and had been travelling further into the forest all day. It was getting close to evening, and they were soon going to need to set up camp.

And once the sun had set, both she and Tamlen would finally be able to have something to eat.

The two Dalish had agreed not to inform the others in the group that they were entering their autumn fast. While neither had a problem with everyone knowing, they both knew that they would take an unprecedented interest in the tradition.

So much for that thought. Ayale breathed in calmly to settle her temper. As several in her clan had had the displeasure of finding out, on more than one occasion: she had quite a temper when pushed, and fasting was a sure way of shortening her patience.

"We're only fasting during the day," Ayale replied, praying that her irritation wasn't evident in her tone. "It's part of our customs, part of what it is to be Dalish."

"I was merely worried about the two of you not eating," Wynne retorted, obviously catching the hidden tone. "And, tradition or not, I don't think it's in Tamlen's best interests to be starving himself again."

Ayale faltered, almost stopping dead at Wynne's words. She was struck by the immense gravity of the older woman's words, unknowingly stated by the Circle mage. The horrific image of her clanmate's emancipated body from the night of his reappearance flashed before her eyes, causing her stomach to twist and the bile to rise in her throat.

"I'm hardly starving myself, Hahren," Tamlen called from behind them. "Can't you just accept that this is part of who we are?"

Wynne pursed her lips and looked, unimpressed, at the elf, who was impervious to the mage's glare. Judging by the silent messages that the duo were sending each other, confrontation seemed inevitable.

"Does everyone see that?" Ayale called, bringing everyone's attention back to the forest.

They were about to walk through a dip between two mounds. Past the mounds, Ayale could see rising smoke, and the air rippled from the heat of multiple fires. And, even at the distance that they were, she could hear the thuds of arrows hitting straw targets and the clang of a craftsman and his apprentice at work.

All were the signs of a camp, but even better, they were signs of a Dalish camp.

Ayale looked around, and saw with barely contained delight that the several scouts that she had been aware of were making their presence more well-known. And ahead of them, an escort was approaching them, either to take them out of the forest or to guide them to their Keeper.

Relishing the moment of being with kin once again, Ayale strode forward, leaving the rest of the party to hang back unsurely. The sound of footsteps alerted her to Tamlen's continued presence beside her. She looked over her shoulder to her clanmate, her eyes alight with eager anticipation and her lips tweaked into a relieved smile, and saw his expression echoed her own.

She schooled her face as she turned back to the welcome party, and promptly forwent the calm, collected air when she recognised the she-elf approaching them.

"Mithra!" Ayale called excitedly. "Aneth ara."

"Andaran atish'an lethallan, lethallin," Mithra greeted warmly. "You have come a long way. I give you the welcome of our clan."

She smiled kindly to Ayale and Tamlen, before focusing on the rest of the group. Her smiled slid off her face as she looked at them and she started to frown slightly in confusion and concern.

"These are curious companions you have," Mithra observed warily. "May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

"We've come on behalf of the Grey Wardens," Ayale replied factually.

"The Grey Wardens? You... have both joined their ranks? How unusual!" Mithra exclaimed excitedly before mentally correcting herself. "Excuse my surprise. I will take you to see the Keeper right away."

Mithra turned and started to walk back to her clan's camp. She turned slightly to look back at Ayale and Tamlen expectantly.

While Tamlen made to follow Mithra, Ayale hung back. She looked over to where Alistair and the others were standing. She exchanged glances between the rest of the group and the slowly retreating backs of her clanmate and fellow Dalish.

"Come on Alistair," she called finally. "I think it's best if all Grey Wardens spoke to the Keeper. Everyone else stay here. We'll be back in a while."

Then, after waiting for the shemlen templar to join her, Ayale fell into step behind Mithra. Tamlen walked by her side and Alistair followed behind them. Everyone was silent as they approached the camp.

Everywhere she looked, Ayale was greeted by sights that were reminiscent of her own clan. She and Tamlen had been gone for four months, and seeing the crafts-master at work, the aravels, groups of elves surrounding a cooking fire or tending to menial tasks... it made her realise just how much she had missed it all.

She glanced sideways at Tamlen. She could see him looking around as well. He probably missed the clan as much as she did, if not more. She had left the clan aware that she might never see them again, Tamlen hadn't had that insight. She hadn't mentioned the possibility to him yet, and was dreading the foreseeable conversation.

Her internal musing was cut short when she noticed that Mithra was leading them to a particular elf. Upon a quick glance over him, she saw that he was their Keeper, though she couldn't identify the man. Once she stood before him, she recognised him easily: Zathrian.

"Hmmm. It seems we have guests, and two of our own, no less," Zathrian noted interestedly as he looked over Ayale's party.

"They are from one of our sister clans to the north of here," Mithra introduced. "But, they claim to be here on behalf of the Grey Wardens."

The Grey Wardens? How unusual that two of our own should join their ranks," Zathrian stated in surprised. "How did such a thing occur?"

At the Keeper's question, Ayale saw Tamlen blanch. His entry into the Grey Wardens had not been a pleasant ordeal and, if she wanted to be entirely honest, neither was hers. The thought of telling their story felt very unappealing, and the she-elf thought frantically for an answer.

"It's a long story, Keeper," she stalled. "Perhaps another time?"

"Perhaps so. I'm afraid at the moment I have little time to spare for long tales," Zathrian conceded, nodding his head before returning his attention to their guide. "Ma serannas Mithra. You may return to your post."

"Ma nuvenin Keeper," Mithra bowed her head to Zathrian before leaving the group.

"Now, perhaps we might introduce ourselves," Zathrian stated authoritatively. "I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of this clan. And you are?

"My name is Ayale, Keeper," the she-elf introduced, turning to her companions. "This is my clanmate, Tamlen, and Alistair, a fellow Grey Warden."

Zathrian nodded, apparently pleased with the introductions. The Keeper looked over them with polite curiosity, his stern eyes peering at them past his vallaslin of Dirthamen. He raised his chin slightly, which made him look quite arrogant to Ayale.

"If you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed the corruption," Zathrian stated assuredly, before his shoulders drooped wearily. "I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

"Yes, it seems like you have your own troubles," Alistair murmured darkly behind the Dalish. "What are the odds?"

Ayale glanced in irritation over her shoulder at the shemlen. She knew that he could be tactless at times, but that comment had been crude even for him. Plus, she was certain that Zathrian had heard the templar as well.

"Do not allow our troubles to burden you, though I suspect they may impact your mission," Zathrian continued, ignoring Alistair's interruption. "I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. However, we may not be able to live up to our promise."

Zathrian paused at the admission. He shifted uncomfortably and frowned concernedly, as if he was unsure of how to continue. He then sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"This will require some... explanation," he admitted. "Please follow me."

Ayale glanced in confusion towards Tamlen and Alistair. The shemlen's face was blank, as usual, and Tamlen looked clueless. Her clanmate shrugged and beckoned her onwards to follow the Keeper.

With a resigned sigh, Ayale turned and followed Zathrian to a secluded area of the camp. Even approaching it looked ominous, with the high cloth walls that isolated it from everyone and hid everything and everyone inside. After a slight hesitation at the entrance flap, Ayale pushed through and saw what had befallen Zathrian's clan.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm not sure when my next update will be after this. I've just started Uni, and I currently don't know what my timetable is, or what my workload will be. I will get the next chapter done as soon as I can, but that may take a while.

Elven translations (my words in _italics_)

Andaran atish'an –Enter this place in peace (Formal greeting

Aneth ara –(Friendly/sociable greeting between Dalish)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (Female)

Lethallin –Friend (Male)

Ma serannas –Thank you

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Shemlen –Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing

Vir _shemlath_ –Way of quick love (Playing matchmaker)


	22. Difference Renewed

Ayale was sitting on a tree stump, staring down at the ground by her feet. One leg rested on the ground, while the other was perched on the stump, her knee tucked neatly under her chin. Her hands were lying on her exposed thigh, right by her bouncing knee.

Tamlen watched Ayale tap her heel against the ground while they waited for Alistair to return with the rest of the group. Zathrian had given their party permission to stay within the Dalish's camp, provided Ayale promised that they would not disrupt the clan. He wasn't convinced that there wouldn't be a confrontation.

He then noticed that his clanmate was tapping her fingers against her knee. She was clearly upset, and after what Zathrian had told them, he couldn't blame her.

Just seeing fellow Dalish in such torment, with some of the younger and frailer crying out in pain, had felt too similar to what he had been forced to endure. The thought that so many of his brethren were likely to be killed because of this curse, either by the infliction or by their kin slaying them, made him sick to his stomach. It was yet another reminder of how comparable his situation had been to his stricken kin.

And, like with blight, there was no obvious cure. Even Zathrian had admitted that killing Witherfang and returning with his heart might not be enough.

Yes... he could understand why Ayale was so upset.

"Tamlen..." Ayale called softly, not looking up. "I'd like you to stay in the camp while I go after Witherfang."

Tamlen didn't answer straight away. He had been expecting her to say something like that, though hearing her say it still pierced his heart in a way that he couldn't describe, or want to describe.

She probably recognised the similarities between the Dalish's curse and his time as a ghoul, and didn't want him to get involved. While it made sense, it twisted his gut to think that his clanmate didn't trust him to keep focused on the task at hand and not delve into his own painful past.

"I know you can handle yourself," she continued quietly. "But you've already been through so much; I don't want to risk losing you to this curse."

His stomach twisted in a completely different way at her words. While he was confident that he could keep himself out of a werewolf's jaws, he felt strangely touched that she didn't want him to even take the risk.

"Don't worry about me, lethallan," he ordered lightly. "I'll stay behind and keep the shemlen in line."

"Ma nuvenin Tamlen," she nodded in relief. "Ma serannas."

At his agreement to stay behind, Ayale relaxed slightly and he could no longer sense her tension through the taint.

"I'll set out with Leliana, Zevran and Shale at first light tomorrow," she stated conversationally.

"What about Alistair, Morrigan or Sten?" he asked confusedly. "You're not taking them?"

"No, that would be irresponsible of me," Ayale explained, shaking her head. "They're all still injured, and I'm not about to risk them getting bitten."

"What about Hahren Wynne?" he inquired.

"She'll probably want to stay here and keep an eye on everyone who's injured," his clanmate noted. "And besides, in camp, she may find out about Aneirin, that first apprentice of hers."

"Always thinking of others, aren't you lethallan?" he chuckled affectionately.

Ayale smiled at him, before turning her head to watch the approach of the rest of their party. As Tamlen turned his head to watch them as well, he saw everyone react differently to being amongst a Dalish clan.

Alistair was in the lead, keeping his attention solely on reaching them without incident. Leliana was looking around with the same wide-eyed interest that she always had whenever something concerned the Dalish. Wynne and Zevran looking about curiously, but were obviously keeping their gazes nonintrusive. Sten looked at the camp with the same stoic expression that he always had, though Tamlen could swear that he saw the qunari looking disdainfully at the small cooking fires that were dotted about. Morrigan was still recovering from her head injury, and was keeping to herself and wasn't looking around. Torgan was wondering around taking in all the different scents of the Dalish encampment.

"Well, this should be interesting," Ayale commented dryly as she rose from her seat.

* * *

Ayale couldn't have been more grateful when Hahren Sarel offered them a place at the campfire to break their day's fasting. And, judging by the look on Tamlen's face, her clanmate was glad too. After a quick murmur of thanks to the hahra, Ayale delved into the lightly spiced loaf that had been given to her. She had fasted many times before, but with the obvious signs of Taint on her face, the insatiable hunger that gnawed at her constantly, they all reminded her of what she was now.

It made her feel alone. She was a Grey Warden first and foremost. She could never return to her Dalish kin and be nothing more than a wandering soul, roaming the lands for lost lore of a culture half forgotten by a people who no longer cared about, save but a few.

The fact that Tamlen was probably feeling the same gave her a small measure of comfort, but also caused her an equal amount of heartache in the process. He hadn't asked for this –neither had she to be honest, but at least she had known what Joining the Grey Wardens had entailed. She had known that Joining meant she would probably never see her clan again, and while she suspected Tamlen knew as well, she wasn't entirely certain.

She shook her melancholy thoughts from her mind and focused on her companions introducing themselves to Sarel.

"I am a Grey Warden, yes. Pleased to meet you. Nice… campfire you have, there," Alistair spoke respectfully, though Ayale could hear the insecurity in his voice.

"I am Leliana, and I am no Grey Warden at all. I am honoured to be here; I've heard so much about your people," the bard introduced herself with the charm and ease that was clearly necessary for the woman's occupation.

"Zevran, here. We have Dalish up in Antiva City, though they're much more violent I hear," Zevran noted conversationally.

Ayale decided that she would have to have a word with him once they left Sarel's campfire. Clearly the assassin didn't know that the Dalish roamed the lands, and often travelled to different countries. Even her clan had gone to Antiva several times, and they always had to be more vigilant whenever they were there.

"A Grey Warden? I? Bite your tongue, storyteller," Morrigan snapped.

The she-elf fought the urge to groan. The apostate certainly knew how to get her point across, and usually in a way that would offend the most people. It was a good thing that the Dalish were used to such treatment from shemlen, sadly it was almost to the point where they expected it.

"I am a golem. Obviously," Shale stated factually and said no more, which was a relief for Ayale.

"I am a Sten of the Beresaad. Not a Warden," Sten replied.

His tone held a warning: do not make that mistake again. If Sarel or the rest of the clan heard it, Ayale wasn't sure. If they hadn't, then she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the hahra.

"I am Wynne Sarel. It is wonderful to meet you," Wynne introduced herself calmly and respectfully to Sarel.

"Andaran atish'an. Enter this place in pace," Sarel greeted the group formally, before he turned to each one musingly. "I find it strange that so many would readily follow two of the Dalish."

Ayale recognised the tone, and glanced knowingly at Tamlen. When her clanmate returned the expression, she fought the urge to sigh. Knowing that nothing she said would make the situation any better, she stayed silent. And, as if taking their cue from her, no one else spoke, and only glanced at one another uncomfortably.

"Do you think that they made you Grey Wardens because they believed we would not uphold our end of the treaty?" Sarel asked Ayale when no one responded, ignoring the outraged look on Alistair's face.

"I can assure you, Hahren, that is not the case," Ayale stated factually, keeping her tone neutral.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Sarel asked angrily. "Well, no offense, young one, but you don't know the half of–"

"Please, Hahren Sarel," a young woman called. "You are being most unkind to those who are not only of our blood, but are also our guests who are here to help us."

"You... are right," the storyteller admitted shamefully before turning back to Ayale. "Abelas. Our losses have been great and I am... not myself."

"The Hahren's own wife has perished at the werewolves curse," explained a hunter who was sitting by the woman, whom Ayale assumed was his wife. "We are mourning her death... and many more to come."

"That's no excuse," Tamlen muttered angrily under his breath.

"Tamlen!" Ayale hissed disapprovingly, before facing Sarel again. "We are sorry for your loss, Hahren."

"Ma serannas," Sarel bowed his head humbly. "Though, I would rather she be dead than transformed into one of those... beasts."

Not a second later, Tamlen abruptly stood up. He laid the plate of food he had been given down on the floor by his feet and then stepped over the fallen tree trunk that he and Ayale had been sitting on. He didn't speak or look back as he stormed off.

"Is he alright?" the woman from before asked concernedly.

"It's... a long story," Ayale explained evasively. "And, I have no right to tell it without him present."

Ayale could see the sympathetic looks from Alistair, Leliana and Wynne from the corner of her eye. She knew that they would not speak of Tamlen's troubled past, and was certain that her tone had made that point clear to everyone else in her group who might have thought about blabbing.

Sarel and the others from his clan, however, did not look like they were going to be satisfied with her answer. Zathrian might not have had time for their tale, but Sarel practically live for stories, and she could see that hers was one that wished to hear.

"All I will say is..." Ayale paused as she thought for a moment. "I would be a little more considerate of how you speak of the werewolf curse. Tamlen and I have had... a similar experience."

"I understand," Sarel nodded. "I hope I have not offended your kin."

"It wasn't anything you said, Hahren," Ayale assured. "But, I will go and speak to him. If you'll excuse me..."

No one spoke against her departure. She wasn't entirely sure about leaving the rest of her group unsupervised around the storyteller, but knew that she little choice. She offered a prayer to Ghilan'nain to guide her friends in whatever conversation they may have with the Dalish clan.

And then, letting the Taint and thirty years of experience guide her, she followed after her clanmate.

_

* * *

_

Sploosh!

The stone broke the calm of the water's surface. The ripples spread out slowly and made their way to the far ends of the lake.

Tamlen watched them expand until he couldn't see the ripples any longer. Then, he bent down and picked up another stone. As he straightened up, he flung it as far as he could, and watched the ripple effect. When the disturbance could no longer be seen, he bent down and picked up another stone.

"Tamlen?" Ayale's voice called quietly.

He paused as he heard her voice, his arm poised ready to throw the projectile in his hand. After a moment, he threw it with all his might and watched the disturbance of the water.

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She was going to wait until he wanted to talk. And, had she been anyone else, he would have made them wait a long time.

But she wasn't just anyone else.

"How'd you find me, lethallan?" Tamlen asked curiously.

"When we were da'len, I could always find you throwing stones," she replied factually. "It was usually a lake, but a clearing near camp was just as good."

"What about the Taint?" he pressed, knowing that she wasn't completely answering his question.

"I already knew where you going. The Taint just helped me find you quicker," she stated, a creak behind him indicating that she'd shrugged.

He could feel her eyes on his back, watching him, waiting for him. And as much he wanted to turn and face her, he couldn't bear to see the concern, the sympathy that was going to be marring her features, never mind that they were for him.

Tamlen sighed as he continued to stare out over the lake, the ripples long since disappeared from sight. The calm of the water perfectly countered the chaos that his thoughts were in. He could almost hope that his mind would settle like the lake. But no matter how long he stared at it, it was to no avail. Just seeing the stillness made him twitch in wanting for another stone, just to disrupt that unending calm.

"Tamlen?" she called again, her concern more present in her tone than before.

"Why can't I..." he trailed off, unsure of what he was asking.

"What's wrong, Tamlen?" Ayale's voice was surprisingly close.

He felt a hand, her hand, rest lightly on his right bicep. He fought the urge to turn around and see her, and managed to only turn his head enough to see her left hand. She had taken her gloves off when the high dragon's blood had soaked in and ruined them, stating that she would get a new pair when they found the Dalish.

Ayale called his name again, using her hand to gently turn him so that he faced her. When he lowered his gaze to the ground, he saw her stretch out her other hand before timidly cupping his chin with it. Against his better judgement, he brought his eyes up to look into hers.

He could hardly remember the last time he looked at his clanmate so closely. Evidence of the Taint ran down her face like blackened tear channels. Her eyes still held the same brilliant green, with the same playful spark and bright intelligence that always wanted to know more. But the glint of youthful innocence was gone, replaced with a hardened, almost haunted, understanding.

Those eyes had always been able to convince him to speak, without hesitation, and know that whatever he said could never drive her away. He felt the familiar pull on him, his heart telling him to reveal his fears.

"Why can't I be strong like you, lethallan?" he asked miserably, closing his eyes to fight the tears that burned behind his lids. "None of this had anything to do with the darkspawn, or the Taint, or even me... And yet, all I can think about is how different everything is now. We're surrounded by kin, but I feel like I don't belong here anymore. Why can't I get these thoughts out of my head? Why can't I stop think about it? Why am I so afraid?"

"I'd be worried if you weren't afraid, Tamlen," Ayale admitted, her voice hushed to whisper.

With his eyes still closed, he felt her move her hand to cup his jaw, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. Almost without thinking, he raised his hand to her wrist and held it as he pressed his face further into the comfort of her palm.

"So much has happened to you, to _us_," she continued, her voice strangely calm. "We're not the same Dalish that came across a few humans in the forest."

Tamlen opened his eyes when she mentioned that. He almost felt stupid as realisation struck him like Sten swinging Asala into his stomach. He had completely forgotten that she had spent as much time away from the Dalish as he had. His clanmate might have spent that time as a Grey Warden rather than as a ghoul, but she had still changed.

He made a mental note to figure out which of the hahra he had to curse at for making him forget such an important fact, and also to thank whichever one had reminded him.

Then, realising that she was expecting a response, he nodded in understanding.

"Those two died in the cave, didn't they?" he queried, though he already knew the answer.

"Not died, just... changed," Ayale replied confidently.

"There's no going back to the clan, is there?" he asked rhetorically. "We're Grey Wardens to the end."

"True," she conceded. "But, we're still Dalish in our hearts. That'll never change."

"I know," he assured her, smiling slightly. "I guess... I've been a ghoul for the last three months, and I've never felt so alone as I did then. I guess I was a little unnerved when I felt that same feeling when I'm surrounded by fellow Dalish."

The pressure on his arm disappeared and Ayale's other hand moved from his jaw. He momentarily feared that he'd upset her, when her left hand reappeared on his waist and her right held the back of his head. He felt her gently pull at him and he let her guide his head down to her shoulder. He felt her rest her own head on his shoulder as she drew him into a comforting embrace.

After a moment of surprise, he wrapped his arms around her slender figure. One arm, he rested across her shoulders, while he let the other lie across her waist. He held onto her tightly, letting himself enjoy this brief moment of contact, before they were forced to part.

He smiled as he heard her giggle slightly, probably because of his grip, and she squeezed him slightly with the one hand that she had traversing his back. Her right hand was softly stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You're not alone, Tamlen," she whispered. "Not anymore."

His heart lurched into his throat, his stomach flipped and his blood was suddenly set alight as he comprehended the meaning behind her words. The urge to hold her even tighter itched across his entire body, but he resisted and instead laid his cheek on her shoulder so he could look at her better.

"Ma serannas," he uttered in an equally hushed voice.

They were still for another few moments, and Tamlen took his time to drink in the sight of his clanmate from the angle he could see her in. Her blonde hair reflected the sun's light, almost to the point where it seemed to shine with a light of its own. Her skin, so pale for someone who had spent her whole life in the sun, looked so soft.

Dalish customs be damned! He wanted to know what it would be like to kiss her skin. Heck! He wanted to know what it was like to kiss her, her lips, and hopefully anywhere and everywhere else. If this was the influence he had been getting from Zevran, then he almost wished he hadn't been resisting the flat-ear's words for the best part of two weeks... or was it three?

He snapped out of his musing when he suddenly felt Ayale tremble beneath him. Alarm for her brought his thoughts whirring back from those far too inappropriate ideas to much safer concerns for her wellbeing. Worried, he raised his arm off her shoulders slightly, only to catch sight of his own hand shaking.

"Are you shaking, or am I?" Tamlen asked, his voice surprisingly breathless.

Ayale chuckled slightly, pulling out of the embrace. She took a step back to a respectful distance, which made Tamlen forcibly ignore the urge to scoop her back into his arms, and held out her hands. After he held out his own, they stood still and watched quietly as both their hands trembled slightly.

"Looks like we both are," Ayale giggled, before looking up at him with full seriousness on her face. "Are you alright, now?"

"Yeah," he nodded after a moment. "Ma serannas."

She smiled at him for a moment before turning back to the Dalish camp. She took several steps back before she stopped and turned back to him. She motioned to the camp with her head.

"Come on, we'd better get back," she noted. "I dread to think what the rest of our little group is up to."

Laughing, Tamlen bounded after her, slowing once he caught up. As they walked back, he was pleased to notice that they were walking a little closer together than they had previously. He ignored the little voice in his head telling to try and hold her hand. Instead, he imprinted the feeling of everywhere she'd touched him into his memory.

When they neared the Dalish camp, Tamlen took a slight step to a side, creating a far more respectable distance between them. While he was now more eager to forgo Dalish customs, they still had to be met around others.

* * *

Elvish Translations (My words in _italics_):

Abelas –Sorrow (Also used as an apology)

Andaran atish'an –Enter this place in pace

_Hahra_ –Gods

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (Female)

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Ma serannas –Thank you

Shemlen –Human


	23. Ground Rules

Author's note: This... how long has it been? Five... six months? My apologies to all my readers. Inspiration and interest decided to take a nose-dive, and I was so close finishing this chapter quite a while ago. Well... that and I've had fun struggling with my laptop, ended up being given a new one, found out that my laptop doesn't have the proper specs for gaming, got an Xbox, took a month to get all the right parts, and had to restart my whole game since PC save can't be transfered to Xbox, and got caught up in DAII. Error Type 2 doesn't help either.

I am declaring my fangirl love for Fenris. I swear: I will romance no one else.

All that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Apologies for it's lateness, I should be able to get on with it... for a while... I hope.

* * *

Ayale managed to keep her mouth shut as she listened to Cammen, a hunter apprentice, lament about his problems with a young woman called Gheyna. He claimed that he loved her, and that he had asked her to bond with him. However, as he was still a hunter apprentice, he was still considered a child, and Gheyna had refused his request.

Ayale decided against mentioning that, technically, he was still considered a child until he received his vallaslin. The apprentice already knew this fact, and so it was unnecessary to remind him. She listened to him decline ideas that her group offered him. Zevran had suggested that he try wooing the woman a little more forcefully, Alistair had suggested a gift, while Leliana had offered a song.

"I'll talk to her for you," Ayale stated, her tone surprisingly bored.

She didn't give the boy a chance to refuse, for she turned around and approached the girl that they had been talking about. She could hear Cammen sputtering behind her, begging her to come back, but she ignored him.

As she approached the red-haired girl, Gheyna turned and stood up. A respectful expression was on her face, obviously from recognising Ayale as a Dalish from another clan. And it was Gheyna's face that made Ayale almost miss a step.

"Are you Gheyna?" she asked flatly.

The young woman blinked in surprise at Ayale's boldness, and nodded mutely. Her eyes widened as Ayale examined her face.

"Cammen mentioned you," Ayale stated, hoping to get some response from the girl.

"Oh, he did?" Gheyna asked excitedly, a blush rising on her face. "What did he say?"

With an exasperated sigh, Ayale turned back to where Cammen and, surprisingly, all of her companions were still standing, rooted to the spot in shock of her abrupt actions. Tamlen didn't seem so stunned, and so she motioned to him, pointing to an archway that was behind Hahren Varathorn's aravel. When he nodded, she turned back to Gheyna.

"Come on, let's have a little chat," she suggested, taking hold of Gheyna's shoulder and guiding her to the archway.

Gheyna was silent as she let Ayale bring her to the archway. Ayale removed her hand from the girl's shoulder and took a couple steps away, distancing herself from the young Dalish. Moments later, Tamlen appeared, dragging Cammen in with him. He pushed the apprentice in to stand beside Gheyna, and he took up what Ayale could almost call a guard position.

"Okay, while I would happily run around camp, playing matchmaker for you two, I have a werewolf to kill and a curse to break," she stated.

The two youngsters looked positively shocked at her choice of words, before blushing as they realised that she was referring to them. They were both blushing with embarrassment, Cammen for realising that what Ayale was saying was true, and Gheyna at being caught in the game.

"You both know that you can only bond when you are an adult. So, as you are both determined that you _are_ adults, I will speak to both of you as such," she explained, her tone warning.

Cammen and Gheyna shared a worried glance, and Ayale allowed herself a moment to feel sorry for them for what she was about to put them through. A glance from Tamlen showed that he felt the exact same way. She then steeled her heart, inhaled, and began.

"Cammen," she called, making the apprentice jump. "You are an apprentice hunter. By that definition alone, you are still a child. I admit, your training has come to a halt because of the werewolf threat, but that doesn't change facts. And, it doesn't matter how long you've been an apprentice. So long as you are an apprentice, you are da'len."

Ayale watched as Cammen bowed his head in defeat and gazed dejectedly at his feet. She said nothing as Gheyna looked at her in outrage, before turning sympathetically at her would-be lover.

"But Cammen," she continued softly. "Don't think for a moment that you cannot become a full hunter. When the threat has passed, I am sure that Andruil will grant you a worthy sacrifice."

The boy looked up at her and smiled, nodding his head respectfully, showing that he understood her. His eyes were surprisingly dry, and she had to credit him for not shedding a tear. She could remember when Ashalle had given her a similar talk, and she had been crying on Tamlen's shoulder for the rest of the afternoon.

"Gheyna."

She turned to the young woman, who was trembling in fear at the very idea that she was about to receive a similar talk. Ayale almost felt sorry for the girl... almost.

"You have been correct in refusing Cammen's hand, as he is still da'len," Ayale noted. "However, even if he were not, and had received his vallaslin, you would not be able to bond with him anyway."

"Why not?" Gheyna challenged. "He would be a full hunter, and an adult."

"Yes, he would be," Ayale agreed. "But, you wouldn't."

The two Dalish frowned and glanced at each other in confusion. Ayale could see Tamlen looking over his shoulder, obviously interested in how the girl was going to take the news.

"As I said earlier, you can only bond when you are an adult," she reminded the pair. "But, from what I can see, Gheyna, you are not an adult either."

"What?" Gheyna spluttered in outrage. "Of course, I'm an adult!"

"The clan will only consider you an adult when you have received your vallaslin," she stated harshly, angry that the girl would dare try to disagree. "That, Gheyna, is an honour you've yet to receive. You've been denying Cammen by saying that he is still a child. Well, look in a mirror, da'len, and tell me which hahra you honour!"

Gheyna's face dropped in shock, obviously no one had ever been spoken to her like that before. Her chest hitched as she tried in vain to keep her breathing steady. Tears swelled up in her eyes and ran down her face. All the while, she stared at Ayale, as if she thought a desolate face would make the older Dalish return her words.

But Ayale refused to budge, and after a few moments, Gheyna ran from the archway. Her cries could be heard as she raced away.

"Gheyna!" Cammen called worriedly, before turning to glare at Ayale. "I asked you for help, not this!"

And then, the apprentice ran after his love.

Ayale said nothing as the two youths ran off. She then sighed in exasperation and slowly walked over and leaned against an archway opposite her clanmate, and the pair of them watched Cammen catch up with Gheyna and guide her to a more secluded part of the camp.

"That was almost worthy of Morrigan, lethallan," Tamlen noted casually before turning to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed again. "It's just... she strung that poor boy along, when she was in no better position than him. It really annoyed me."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if the archdemon felt that one," he joked.

Ayale looked at him, unimpressed, for a second before chuckling. She could hear him join in, and they both laughed for a moment before calming themselves down.

"Abelas, Tamlen," she stated. "I hope I wasn't too loud."

"Shah," he shook his head. "Should we go and make sure they haven't done something stupid?"

"Might as well," she shrugged. "I don't think Zathrian would approve if we drove two da'len of his clan to do something drastic. You don't think I was too hard on them, do you?"

"Actually, I thought you were being kind," her clanmate noted, turning his head to look at her. "I remember when papae gave me a similar talk."

"Ashalle did that with me, too," she nodded her head.

"I remember," he stated, scanning the forest for the two lovers. "I remember you crying for an hour."

Ayale turned her head to look at her clanmate, and observed him. She could tell that he wanted to ask her again, so many years later, but knew he wouldn't ask her. He wouldn't want to bring up something that had upset her so badly.

"Well, it's in the past, now," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Look, there they are."

The apprentice hunter was comforting the young girl, as she continued to cry heavily. They were both oblivious to the two Wardens as they came up behind them.

"Gheyna, I don't care what they said!" Cammen assured the sobbing girl. "I don't care if we are both children to the clan. I love you. If it means being with you, we could leave camp!"

"But the werewolves," Gheyna protested, gazing tearfully at him. "Cammen, it's too dangerous."

"I'll protect us!" the apprentice vowed. "I'll kill every werewolf that comes in sight! I'll do anything to know that you'll bond with me. I don't care how long I have to wait."

"That kind of attitude will make you a great hunter one day, Cammen," Ayale noted, a satisfied smile on her face. "Along with being a devoted husband and an invaluable member of your clan."

The duo jumped in surprise and turned to the Wardens. They both stared in shock and confusion at the two Wardens, who were smiling proudly at them.

"You did that to us on purpose!" Gheyna stated accusingly.

"I did," Ayale confirmed calmly. "Everyone has something similar spoken to them when they are da'len."

"It's a lesson," Tamlen added. "A harsh one, but, it's necessary to help you find your place within the clan and the strength of your heart."

"Now, why don't you two come back to the clan with us, and I can finally get on with killing this Witherfang," Ayale stated, turning back round to find her companions.

Tamlen walked by her side, glancing at her silently for a moment before focusing on the path. They were silent, listening to the undergrowth move beneath their feet as they walked. Then, they heard the hurried sounds of the two da'len rushing to catching up. Beside exchanging a brief smirk, the Wardens showed no indication that they had noticed their new shadows.

* * *

Ayale sheathed her new Dar'Misaan, which she had traded off Hahren Varathorn, and turned to her party. Leliana, Zevran and Shale were standing to one side, waiting for her to join them, while the others were by Tamlen, who was laying down a code of conduct.

"First, and most importantly: do _not_, if possible, get engaged in a religious discussion," Tamlen stated, his voice amusingly serious. "If you get into such a conversation, keep your opinions brief, and don't go off on a tangent. Second, as tempting as it may be, don't try to talk in Elvish. We've spent lifetimes recovering our lost lore, and any attempts by you to imitate will probably be taken as offensive. Third-"

"Stay out of trouble," Ayale finished, eyeing her clanmate for going on.

He merely shrugged at her, though a slight smile touched his lips. Regardless, he didn't speak again.

With the safety talk finished, the members of the party that were staying behind dispersed. Alistair returned to Sarel and his campfire, with Torgan by his side. Sten wondered off to where the hunters were practising, Morrigan walked down to the lake and as few people as possible, while Wynne ventured over to Zathrian and the cursed elvhen to offer her Circle learnt services.

"You stay out of trouble too, lethallan," Tamlen requested, his eyes gazing at her imploringly.

"We'll be careful," she promised.

She didn't give him the chance to respond, for she turned to the others and they walked past the statue of Fen'Harel and out of camp. All the while, he stood motionlessly, watching her disappear from sight.

"Dareth shiral," he whispered.

* * *

"Help!" Ayale yelled, dragging an unconscious elf between her and Zevran. "Somebody help us!"

Members of both the clan and the Grey Warden party came running at the call, worried expressions all around. Mithra and Tamlen were the first to arrive, with the gatekeeper setting an arrow into her bow.

"What happened?" the woman demanded.

"He's alive, barely," Ayale replied, looking worriedly at the limp figure by her side.

"Deygan," Mithra uttered breathlessly.

She dropped her bow and arrow before sprinting to help Ayale, Tamlen and several elves joining her. After being relieved of the injured elf, Ayale drew her blades.

"He hasn't been bitten," she explained. "On our way back, we came across some a pack of fen. My companions are holding them back. I need to check on them."

"Go, we have him," Mithra assured.

Without another word, Ayale and Zevran bolted into the forest. As tempted as he was to join them, Tamlen knew he would be of little help. And so, he helped the Dalish clan bring their wounded kin to Zathrian and Wynne.

It was more than an hour later when the group returned to the clan's camp. All were covered in blood, and the three flesh bearing members were sporting injuries of some description. Leliana seemed to be the worst hurt, fashioning herself with several bite marks and torn flesh around her right eye.

None of them spoke, silently guiding the bard to where Wynne was waiting, a horrified expression on the healer's face. On their way, Alistair joined the procession, taking Zevran's place at Leliana's left side and placing a comforting on her shoulder.

Wynne instantly took the Orlesian to a side and began to tend to the most obvious injury. She gave Ayale a pointed look of dismissal, before giving the she-elf a couple of injury kits so she and Zevran could tend to the own minor wounds.

Ayale tossed one to the assassin, who took it and began addressing his gorged leg. She then found a stump to sit on and she carefully took off what was left her shredded gloves and elbow protectors. Her forearms had an array of scratches and puncture bite marks.

"Here, lethallan," Tamlen called softly, kneeling beside and offering his hand. "Let me do that."

Without protest, she handed him the injury kit, and allowed him to bandage her arms. She looked over to Alistair, who seemed to be waiting for her to recognise his presence before speaking.

"What happened?" Alistair asked worriedly.

"A pack of fen –wolves," the she-elf explained, wincing slightly when Tamlen gently tugged the bandage tight. "It was larger than any of us thought, maybe twenty strong. It seemed like whenever one went down, two more would come and take its place."

"We let Leliana and Shale take care of them while we dragged that Dalish hunter back here," Zevran continued.

"How's he doing, by the way?" Ayale inquired, looking to Tamlen.

"He's going to be fine," he assured his worried clanmate. "He got off lightly, just a few deep cuts, nothing Keeper Zathrian couldn't heal."

"Zathrian..." Ayale muttered in annoyance. "I need to have a word with him. He forgot to mention a few things..."

"Yes, talking werewolves were not in the job description," Zevran agreed.

"What?" Alistair and Tamlen turned to the assassin in shock.

"It's true," Ayale concurred. "There was one in particular. He called himself Swiftrunner. He... he said that the werewolves would gladly watch this clan fall to the curse. He seems to know of Zathrian, and yet... he admitted that they'd never met."

"I'm not even going to pretend to know what's going on, but this sounds really strange to me," Alistair noted suspiciously.

"I agree," Ayale nodded to the shemlen, before turning back to Tamlen. "The Keeper's holding out on us."

"But you know we can't just go up and say that, lethallan," Tamlen reminded her gently.

"We'll just have to keep an eye on him," Alistair stated confidently.

"That may be easier said than done, Alistair," Tamlen warned.

"True, but something has to be done," the she-elf noted. "We need to find out what Zathrian doesn't want us to know."

Tamlen stared at his clanmate for a while, searching her face for any sign that would allow him to refuse her. They both knew the respect that the Keepers held in their clan, and how poorly the clan would react if they spoke out against him.

But, as he lowered his gaze, he saw the bandages he had wrapped around his clanmate's savaged arms. He spared a glance to Zevran and his injured leg before turning slightly to the tent that held Wynne and a disfigured Leliana, though hopefully the disfigured part wasn't going to be permanent.

Seeing the truth behind his clanmate's words, he sighed regretfully. He looked back to her and nodded, admitting defeat.

"Ma nuvenin, lethallan," he muttered unhappily.

"Ma serannas, Tamlen," she replied quietly. "I don't want to do this either, but we don't have much choice."

"Well, if the three you don't mind," Alistair called. "I'm going to see how Leliana is doing."

"Let us know, yeah?" Ayale requested.

"I will," the shemlen promised as he walked away.

There was a pause for a few moments, where no one spoke, and they watched Alistair enter the tent and disappear from view. Afterwards, Zevran returned to his task of bandaging the injuries on his leg, while Tamlen continued tending to Ayale.

The she-elf spent the time thinking about how they were going to find out the truth from Zathrian. She knew that they couldn't ask the clan, and accusing him was not going to work. Watching the Keeper was the only way that she was certain was not going to get them in trouble, but would they find out the truth? She had her doubts.

"We're just going to have to wait for the right opportunity," Tamlen stated, probably reading her emotions through the Taint and making an educated guess. "Whatever it is, he can't hide it forever."

"I hope you're right, Tam," Ayale sighed. "I really do."

* * *

Elvish translations (My words in _italics_):

Abelas –Sorrow (Also used in apologies)

Da'len –Child(ren)

Dareth shiral –Safe journey

Elvhen –The people (Elven name for themselves)

Fen –Wolf

_Hahra_ –God(s)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Clanmate (Female)

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Ma serannas –Thank you

_Papae_ –Father

Shah –No

Shemlen-Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing


	24. Secrets Revealed

The sun rose to show a new day in the Brecillian Forest and the Dalish camp. As the clan prepared for the day's chores and activities, Ayale and her own group were setting about tackling their second voyage into the forest.

The previous day's failure and revelations had put the she-elf into a foul mood, such that Tamlen had only rarely seen. As calm and patient as his clanmate was, she had the wrath to rival Elgar'nan when she was properly riled. And from all the signs she was showing this morning, he was not looking forward to the day.

Shale and Zevran were once again going out with Ayale, though Leliana was to stay in the camp by Wynne's orders. The healer was going to stay to take care of the bard and the members of Zathrian's clan who had fallen to the curse. Alistair was going to be of no help, worrying over Leliana and his arm still bandaged. Morrigan still had bandages around her head, her skull not completely healed yet.

Thankfully, Sten had stated that he would accompany the party, even though his arm had not fully recovered. Ayale had been concerned in letting him, but knew that she didn't have much choice. However, she still decided to bring Torgan for extra support, stating that the hound should get out of camp.

Tamlen tried not to feel disappointed when she didn't ask him to join the group that was leaving camp. However, she had asked him not to get involved previously, not wanting him falling prey to another curse. While they both knew that the chances were minimal, the fear was still there, and he was loathed to admit that he wasn't in the best of health, despite his improvements over the past month.

"Be careful, lethallan," he pleaded. "Yesterday did not go so well, and this group is running out of uninjured members."

"I know," she answered flatly. "But today, we've got a better idea of what we're up against."

"I hope so," he muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "Do you want me to watch Zathrian today?"

"Please," she replied. "Don't be too obvious about it. Hahren Wynne can keep an eye on him while he tends to his clan, and she's already agreed to. Just… be alert for anything odd."

"Ma nuvenin lethallan," he nodded as she walked away, joined by the others who were venturing out. "Dareth shiral."

* * *

Considering their spectacular failure the previous day, Ayale had been expecting even worse as they travelled deeper into the forest. But, apart from the occasional encounter with the werewolves they had been sent to kill, and the random attack from possessed trees, the journey was surprisingly uneventful. The worst that they suffered was a trap set by a Fade spirit, and all that left her with was the worst headache she had ever had.

They had come across a sylvan that had come to terms with its situation and even spoke in rhyme. Ayale had found that last bit the most amusing, knowing that it would have irritated Tamlen to no end. And so, after promising to recover the Grand Oak's acorn, much to the chagrin of certain members of her party, she had led them to the eastern side of the forest.

It took some time before they found the mad hermit that had stolen the Oak's acorn, and he willing traded it for the Tale of Iloren, a book that Cammen had given Ayale for helping him and Ghenya. And, intrigued by a helm that she had seen the hermit paw over, she traded a ring for the item, and was surprised to recognise it of being of elvhen make. Sadly, the helm was too large for her, but she stashed it away in her backpack, thinking of someone who would take interest in it.

Despite knowing the way back to the Grand Oak, something pulled at Ayale to go a different path. She almost regretted her decision as they ran into a pack of werewolves, but was grateful when she found one of the beasts that did not attack them. The creature revealed itself to be Danyla, wife of Athras and a member of Zathrian's clan. Ayale took the woman's scarf and put her out of her misery, at Danyla's own request.

Then, with business elsewhere, the group pressed on.

* * *

Everyone was surprised when the group returned to camp, more so when it was revealed that no one was injured. Ayale merely stated that they were dropping off a few items, including a scarf to a hunter, explaining to him that his wife had turned from the curse and that she had sent her love before Ayale had ended her suffering.

After watching her give a spectacular amount of looted and forgotten items to Hahren Varathorn, Tamlen approached his clanmate.

"You're alright, lethallan?" he queried, curious to her calm demeanour.

"I'll admit: I'm a little surprised at how today has gone," she noted. "Perhaps we just didn't have the Creators' favour last night."

"Perhaps," he agreed reluctantly. "I haven't noticed anything strange about the clan, and Wynne hasn't seen anything either. Maybe Zathrian isn't hiding anything."

"No, I believe Swiftrunner," Ayale shook her head. "There's something about this curse that Zathrian isn't telling us. Even Danyla, before she died, told me that there was something more to this."

"Perhaps there is more to the curse," Tamlen conceded. "But, what does it matter, lethallan?"

"I don't like being kept in the dark, Tam," the she-elf stated. "I don't mind secrets, but Zathrian is keeping one too many."

Tamlen didn't reply. He knew better than to argue the issue with her, since she wasn't going to give up her position. And, he was inclined to agree with her suspicions… not that he was going to say it.

_Raak! Raak! Raak!_

The friends turned, looking upwards as they followed the sound of the harsh cries and picked out two dark shapes perched in the tree overhead. The ravens were blissfully unaware of the shiver down the backs of the Wardens that their presence had caused.

"Catching sight of the brothers is a bad sign, lethallan," Tamlen muttered uneasily.

"Maybe," Ayale replied, not once looking away from the birds. "Or maybe, they have a secret to tell."

"Any secret they have will be a lie," he warned. "Not even Dirthamen can bid them to honesty now."

"Perhaps it's a gift he gives to his favourite," she suggested, looking slyly at him from the corner of her eye. "Back up, Tam, and hold out an arm."

Tamlen looked at her dubiously and she turned to look at him, her eyes clear and certain. They stared at each other for a minute before he gave in. Still, he looked up at the birds, worried that they wouldn't come to him, or worse, that they would.

He took five steps from the tree before he turned round to face his challenge. His clanmate hadn't moved, and was switching between watching him and the birds. The birds hadn't moved either, though he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that they were watching him, waiting for something.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of any fear or doubt, knowing that they were allies of the ravens, and breathed in deeply. He clenched his right hand into a fist and raised it. He waited, watching both ravens for signs that they were about to fly.

Nothing.

He and Ayale waited for a few minutes and so did the ravens, it seemed. Neither bird moved, choosing to stare intently at Tamlen instead. They almost seemed to be daring him to try something, whether that was to put his arm down in defeat or something else, he didn't know.

Finally, irritated and bored, he glared at the raven on the right and whistled loudly, startling his clanmate in the process. Seconds later, the bird bopped on its branch and then took off. It glided gracefully down until it was near his outstretched hand and then flapped its inky black wings before landing softly on his glove.

Tamlen let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding and chuckled disbelievingly. The smile was still on his face when he glanced over to Ayale, who was smiled gently at him before looking up to the sky again. He saw her sigh before returning her gaze to him.

"We'd better get back out there," she stated. "Creators willing, we'll find Witherfang before nightfall."

"You want me to stay here?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Keep an eye on Zathrian," she ordered, her voice quiet. "Follow him if he goes anywhere."

"Ma nuvenin," he nodded.

"Have fun with your new friends," she teased, gesturing to the raven.

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, at her. She smiled sweetly in response and walked away, calling her team as she did so. He watched them gear up and set off. Minutes later, he was alone with the ravens.

* * *

Ayale glanced at her glove, or… what was left of it. In under a month, she had ruined three pairs of gloves, one set had only lasted a few hours. This particular pair had been savaged by wolves, werewolves, spiders and, most recently, a dragon. The latter had not been an enjoyable encounter, though the she-elf had to admit, they were now several sovereigns better off.

She gazed around the ruined temple, for that was what it had surely been, and couldn't help the frightening feeling of déjà vu. Her gut feeling to leave Tamlen at camp suddenly made sense. She was one bad encounter away from a full-blown panic attack, an emotion she was certain she was broadcasting to her fellow Wardens.

If she was in this state, how badly would he react? No, it was best that he stay away.

A figure, made of mist, walked in front of her, forcing her to fight the desire to scream. After the initial terror subsided, she noticed that she was looking at a ghost, similar to those within the Gauntlet. And, as she looked closer, she realised that she was staring at an elvhen woman.

"_Ma halani…"_ the ghost woman cried fearfully as she walked away, oblivious to the group behind her. _"Se mara lassal'val. Nae mal!"_

As the woman walked past a group of skeletons, the corpses rose and the ghost faded from sight. The skeletons gargled and hissed and drew weapons from sheathes on the bodies, or drew them from _out_ of the bodies.

Ayale sighed tiredly, drawing out her own blades. At the sound of her companions following suit, she charged. The battle took longer than she would have liked, but the skeletons were scattered bones soon enough.

They carried on.

* * *

Ayale closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head. She clenched her fists as she tried desperately not to cry, not to feel her heart being ripped out. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, making her lightheaded.

It couldn't be true… It couldn't… But, she knew that the Lady of Forest wouldn't lie, had no reason to. What Zathrian had done to her… to the shemlen…

She straightened up, opened her eyes and looked around her. She saw the werewolves for who they really were, cursed people rather than intelligent beasts. And these people only wanted and end to their suffering, an end that Zathrian denied them.

Her heart ached again and her eyes misted over as fresh tears threatened to fall.

"Ir abelas, asha'adahlen," she whimpered, her dismay forbidding her voice to be any stronger. "I may be of the Dalish, but what Zathrian has done…"

"Do not despair," the spirit spoke softly, as if she felt the she-elf's pain. "Only promise me, promise us, that you will speak to Zathrian on our behalf. Ask him to end the curse for us."

"I'll drag him here, if you ask it of me," Ayale promised, not a shred of doubt in her voice. "He will end this curse, one way or another, I swear to you."

The Lady did not question her, obviously accepting of her sincerity. The spirit gestured to a door, recently unblocked, that would lead her and her companions back up to the surface of the ruins.

Ayale strode to the door, her dismay and despair at the revelation quickly turning to outrage. Her pace was quick, the desire to confront the Keeper adding speed to her steps. She practically ran up the stairs, missing steps on occasion. When she came across a closed door at the top, she slammed both her hands into it and forced it open.

She stopped at the top.

As she walked into the room with more composure than she felt, Zathrian turned to face her. The tingling beneath her skin, within her blood, told her of Alistair and Tamlen's proximity. This was confirmed when she saw the two of them, along with Wynne, join Zathrian's side. If she was glaring at him, the Keeper did not seem to notice, but her companions beside him did.

She ignored their confused and worried expressions. Her only focus was on the Keeper.

"I know the truth, Zathrian," she stated, her voice deadpan.

"Indeed?" Zathrian queried, his face betraying nothing. "And what would that be?"

"Asha'adahlen told me everything," she replied, her voice quivering as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

She saw Tamlen frown in confusion at the elvhen term, before glancing towards the Keeper. She was almost pleased to notice Zathrian's expression darken.

"She told me about the shemlen hunters," she continued. "And about your bel'len, your son… your daughter… And she told me of your connection to the curse."

Zathrian narrowed his eyes at her, as if daring her to speak any more.

"You started it," she stated.

"What?" Tamlen interrupted, staring at his clanmate in disbelief.

"And can you blame me?" Zathrian challenged angrily, not bothering to deny her accusation. "You don't know what they did, what they did to my son… to my daughter! They deserve it! They deserve their fate!"

"That happened centuries ago, Zathrian!" Ayale retorted. "The humans now cursed have nothing to do with your children! They're innocent of the crimes you're punishing them for!"

"Humans will never change!" Zathrian proclaimed, his tone certain. "Even if these humans were not the ones who killed my son or raped my daughter, they are no different. Their natures do not change. Just look at yourself, Ayale. You lost your parents because of humans, did you not?"

* * *

Everyone's face suddenly fell at Zathrian's words. Alistair and Wynne turned numbly to Ayale, probably wondering how their leader had failed to mention this fact. Even Zevran and Sten seemed surprised.

Tamlen, however, was watching his clanmate go white with outrage. The foul mood that he had seen her in that morning was coming back with a vengeance. He didn't need his connection to the Taint to know that she was seconds away from causing serious harm to the Keeper.

Fortunately, Zathrian seemed to have realised that he had crossed a line.

"Don't… you… dare…" Ayale whispered, her voice, like her body, quivered in barely repressed fury. "Don't you dare use what happened to my parents as an excuse to maintain this curse. Your own hatred of humans, and your unwillingness to forgive, is why you won't break it."

"How can you ask me to forgive them?" Zathrian asked quietly. "How can we forgive humans for everything they have done to us? They took our homeland, took our immortality, our culture, our freedom-"

"We didn't deserve it!" Ayale screeched, taking a step toward the Keeper. "If we could stop the humans from taking those things from us, then we didn't deserve them!"

She was angry. Zathrian had said the wrong thing and she was upset. Tamlen knew that. But, it didn't stop her words from stabbing him through the heart.

"Is this what it is to be Dalish?" she demanded. "To take offense, to bear a grudge, for transgressions that was made against our people millions of years ago? To never forgive? To hate without question, and breed that hate into our children? Is that what being Dalish means?"

He saw her hand snatched something out of her belt and she held it up towards Zathrian. Tamlen felt the bottom of his stomach drop when he realise it was she was holding. He watched in horror as she held the item threateningly at the elder elf.

"Tell me," she ordered. "Tell me if that's the truth. Because if that's what it means to be Dalish, then I will scour the vallaslin off my face, tip my ears, and I will live in the cities with the shem! Because… if that is what it means to be Dalish… then I refuse to be kin."

* * *

She was breathing heavily after her rant, calming down as she did so. The shock on Zathrian's face was strangely soothing, or perhaps it was just the knowledge that she'd finally gotten him to understand.

She watched Zathrian close his eyes and breathe deeply, smoothing his expression as he did so. When he opened his eyes, they glistened with unshed tears. She wasn't certain whether they were made from the shame of his actions, or the pain of her words. Regardless, he looked older.

He nodded his head silently at her. Without a word, he walked past her and down the staircase to the werewolf lair.

She watched Zathrian until he vanished from sight. When she turned back to her companions, she noticed Tamlen staring at her hand. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he raised his gaze to her face.

After a minute of staring at her, Tamlen turned and walked out of the ruin.

Once he had also vanished out of sight, she looked down to her hand and the knife he had crafted for her. Its malachite blade glinted at her. Wordlessly, she slid the knife back into its pouch on her belt.

She jerked her head to the others, and they followed her back down the stairs to the lair, to the Lady of the Forest, to Zathrian, and to the end of the curse.

* * *

Author's end note: Okay, elven words are not going to be 'made up' from now on. I will make constructs, if I think I can. Otherwise, it'll be in English.

Elven translations (my constructs in _italics_):

_Asha'adahlen_ –Woman of the forest (Lady of the Forest)

_Bel'len_ –Children

Dareth shiral –Farewell/Safe journey

Elvhen –The people (Elven name for themselves)

Hahren –Elder

Ir abelas –I'm very sorry

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Lethallan –Friend (female)

Shemlen –Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing


End file.
